My doctor wants me to start outpatient therapy for my mental health issues. My mom thinks I'm crazy, which is kind of the point. My boss wants me to get back to work. My younger daughter asks me why I am so tired all the time. My older daughter tells me that everything will be okay and we'll get through this together. My dad believes that I am making all of this up on my own. My brothers are all counting on me to be the strong one as the rest of our family gets older, sicker, and poorer. And my dog, Luna, well she just wants me to rub her belly and drop some of my sandwich on the floor.
Everybody wants me to do something. I just want to stop doing everything. The only thing I have the energy to do all day is breathe, at least up until now. Which is ironic because we don't have to focus so hard on breathing, do we? Not a single person has ever asked me if I could breathe today. Because obviously, I can. That makes me wonder what else other people assume about me. Does the fact that I look normal and speak normally tell others that I am? Because I know for a fact that I am not and never will be normal. Which I'm perfectly fine with.
Luna's breathing heavily next to my feet. I used to hate the smell of dog when I was younger. When we brought her into our home she was only three months old. She was our “pandemic puppy”. At first I wanted to train her to be my service dog. It just got too expensive and I realized that I would actually have to socialize her. So instead, a little over a year later, I've actually projected my anxiety on to Luna. Or so our last trainer says. Not cool.
Well I've just about exhausted all my energy for the time being... let's see what happens next. I've never written a blog. Probably terrible. But it is the most productive thing I think I've done today.