Last night for a few moments, even...dare I say...an hour?
I felt cheerful. I felt fucking cheerful.
I laid in bed cuddled up to Jack and thought about adventures Owen and I could take this summer and how I really might hire a housecleaner to help me with the cleaning and the plans that Mr. Moon and I were making to get away this weekend. And it all seemed so doable. So...just...nice.
I woke up this morning and it was all gone. Every bit of it seems impossible.
This is the life of depression and anxiety.
Time to take a walk.