It always makes me anxious. The pressure of the next week, the tasks that may or may not get done with all the will and muster I can amass.
Watching the Simpsons is always a win for me because I can be crying and feel like it's the end of the world and the show never fails to invite a geniuine chuckle from me.
My meds are kind of working. I'm not sleeping all the time anymore. But I'm anxious as hell. Uncomfortable. As if the depression is still weighing down on me, keeping me from moving like a normal human.
It's strange. It's called leaden paralysis. And it's hard to breathe whenever I get it.
