It’s seldom an abrupt collapse– more often, it’s the little habits and peaceful signals that show me where I really am.
It comes in like a burglar in the evening, like sand loading my pockets when I intend to stroll with my hands full.
At the beginning, it is basic, little points that get heavy, the vitamins that I neglected to take that are still on the counter, a bed that is unmanaged because simply the thought of putting the sheets in is frustrating.
I recall remaining on my couch one weekend, really feeling entraped in a mess of plates and mugs I had actually made no initiative to clear. The sink had actually become a graveyard of spoons, and I had a heap of washing on the chair I as soon as sat in while analysis.
I stared at whatever, entirely paralyzed, as if there was a personal charge on each things. You are falling behind, once again.
In times like those, even human connection feels distorted.
I would capture myself thinking everyone around me was upset with me, good friends, work coworkers, unfamiliar people at the grocery store. The tightness in my chest and pit in my belly would certainly convince me I did glitch.