Almost every day I come home and I still don’t know what to do. I still don’t know how to relax. I sit and watch TV but I don’t want to watch TV. I make dinner but I don’t want to make dinner. I play with the boys, I read, I do things outside, but I don’t want to do any of that. I don’t find any satisfaction in activities that keep me occupied while I’m by myself. I wonder if I ever will.
I feel good. I’m still working on getting off the anti-depressants but it’s not my mental state that is keeping me on them. The physical withdrawal is still too much, but I’m slowly reducing my dosage. I’m happy. I’ve found someone who makes me very happy and walks with me through my ever-evolving life, all the while counting on me to do the same, which I’m happy to do. I’m sleeping better, I’m drinking less, and I’m overall in a monumentally better place than I’ve been in a long, long time.
But I still struggle with my direction regularly. It doesn’t show, it doesn’t slow me down, and my emotional state has probably long been forgotten by many, but I regularly feel I’m “missing” something, so to speak. Perhaps “missing” is the wrong word, but I’m still struggling to some degree. I still don’t know how to enjoy my alone time. I’m trying to be patient with it, but the hours and days disappearing behind me are discouraging. I’ve rarely had to find a way to spend alone time, and God knows I haven’t done well in that endeavor. I think I’ll figure it out, because despite the changes in my life recently, I still value the time I have by myself. I just need to learn how to enjoy it more.