The little things 

Trying to find the good in life is hard when everything feels so empty and so black.

Obviously, I’m alive, clothed, housed and fed. That’s four pretty damn good things, and I am grateful. I have a little close knit bundle of wonderful friends – 3 or 4 extra specials, and my family too. Of course there is pupdog as well. I know I am very lucky, and I am not ungrateful for these things. 

It’s just hard to feel happy with your lot when you can’t feel anything but emptiness and overwhelming sadness on a daily basis. 
I’m drowning more often than I’m not lately. I’m not wading through life with little difficulty and water in my wellies. I’m being dragged around by a ferocious ocean and comtantly getting pulled under. I’m still trying to focus on the shore, on my safe haven and making my way back to a relatively normal existence on solid ground. 
I can’t get a doctors appointment to save my life (quite literally!) and it’s increasingly frustrating trying to fight a losing battle. I’m tired. I’m anxious. I’m not sleeping and I am  struggling to keep my thoughts on the little things. 

Trying to keep my little business running, to make ends meet, to meet the needs of my dog and generally cope with being an adult is harder than I hoped right now. The weather is all over the place and planning anything is practically impossible when my brain doesn’t want to play ball. 
Still. I try. I keep trying. I’m hunting for the little things. The sunshine, the butterflies, brioche and coffee, technology, a good book. My bed, my favourite hoody, somehow not many of these things bring me the joy they once did. 

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