Crossposted from my dA. (I'm SeventhBard there).

There's a lot of things I need/want to be doing. But all I really had it in me to do today was make this little image of my fursona being sad in a coffee house somewhere.

I don't talk about it a lot here because mostly my art sites are my happy playtime games place but I have depression and anxiety and lately, it has been very bad. There has been a lot that's gone down in my life over the past ten years. 27 year old Bard was a very, very different person than 37 year old Bard. That wasn't entirely a positive thing. I've gained a lot in perspective since then and I think it made me a better person in some ways. But there are things about her I'd give anything to have back. And I'd particularly give anything to go back to 2009 and 2010 and have that Bard back. She had the world spread out ahead of her, and she was going to take it by storm. She was the best I have ever been and sometimes, I'm terrified she's the best I'll ever have a chance to be, and I'll never be that good again, let alone grow even better, as I had hoped then (I very much someday wanted to be a super badass and happy little old lady).

I've lost my fire. I've lost my positivity- still in here somewhere, but buried under layers of hopeless, helpless screams from a depression desperate for me to acknowledge its suffering. It's a suffering I feel I'm never done paying the price for, as if I'm the recipient of an ancient curse: "I mean, it's not your fault, but I'm ancient and suffering and I feel like I have to punish someone, and here you were, so." I lost my sister, my career, my home, the love of my life. I lost and lost and lost.

And all of that was okay until, somewhere along the way, I realized I'd lost myself. In the act of getting up again and finding something new to strive for, I realized I'd become sick of picking new goals I would, if previous experiences were anything to learn by (and what the hell else do we even learn from), never reach anyway. I ceased to want anything. I became numb. The apathy was new and at first a bit alarming, but as it wore on I realized... it didn't feel good, but it felt better than grinding, endless misery. It has become comfortable. Unhappy, but comfortable.

My life has begun to feel increasingly meaningless and directionless. I know meaning is something for me to create rather than find, I get that. The only time travel I can do is to the future, I get that. I have to let go of mourning, I know that. But I am so tired, and I don't want to try any more. Every plan I make seems, rather than a path to something better, like an opening in my defenses where life can slide a new knife. I have lost all resilience for new failures and disappointments, for new grief, and in doing so, I've lost the ability to desire, to try, to get back to my feet.

I know all of this. What I don't know is what to do about any of it. All I can do is heat some water to try to replace the warmth inside myself.

I drink a lot of coffee and tea.

a LOT.