I have been regressing. Last week or so I feel like I can't stand to be in my own skin. Help from a friend from here helped me through the worst of it. When I'm really bad, I'll open one of these journal tabs and maybe write, or not. I think the amount of what actually makes it is a fraction of what does. Thank goodness almost nobody reads this.

Have been reaching out to people trying to help or offer my genuine feelings. Helped a guy who was almost homeless keep a hotel room so he didn't have to live in his truck. Helped a photographer friend get his camera out of pawn. Sent a message to someone who said they were depressed. Spent 4 days helping my parents on their farm put up a steel building a process firewood, and clean up where the snow plow goes. Parents already deducted a hefty sum from I owe them for the help.

I got a shred of libido back, perhaps from skipping medicine and an impenetrable mind haze that doesn't allow me to focus on my remote job at any degree that makes me worth my meager wage anyways. I am not sure if I relish it or its just part of the spiral. What I do with that shred never seems healthy. But like stress eating, it passes the time.