I’ve been feeling so drained lately. Days blur into hours, and I lie in bed watching the world unfold through a screen, completely disconnected from everything outside my door.
I know it’s depression. It’s mostly functional, but these days, it’s not. It’s familiar—it never really leaves. I’ve lived with it long enough. But something about this season feels different. I feel stuck, distant, indifferent. I don’t know why, and honestly, I don’t have the energy to figure it out. I just keep telling myself it’ll pass. One day I’ll wake up, go for a run, return to the gym, eat better, and slowly start feeling like myself again.
Until then, I’m learning to be gentle with myself. To forgive the unrealistic expectations I keep setting, even when my mind isn’t in the right space. To stop being so hard on myself for needing rest. It may look like laziness or a lack of purpose, but this might be the most I can manage right now. And that has to be enough.
Maybe I’m processing more than I realize. Maybe this quiet is the pause I didn’t know I needed after months of pushing through. Whatever it is, I’m choosing patience. I’m choosing softness. I’m choosing to love myself through it all.
Because if I don’t, who will?
She Was Sea 