Not the same…

February and March are a weird time for me.

A lot of people have trouble with this time of year, grappling for relief after a dark, miserable winter.

For me it’s because of two defining moments in my life.

February marked eight years since I got fired from the Toxic Shit Hole.

March marks nine years since that first doctor appointment when I sobbed in an exam room in front of a doctor I’d just met, because I could no longer handle the utterly debilitating depression that had been ruling my life for nearly two decades.

Mixed in with that, there’s just a lot of LIFE happening these days.

Some things good, some things not so much, others just…ugh.

My brain is mush.

I am mentally, emotionally, and physically exhausted.

I just want a nap.

The writing has been damn near nonexistent on all fronts and I find myself spinning my wheels trying to produce something, anything.

I’m fixating on details that don’t warrant fixation, and struggling to muddle my way through parts that actually matter. It’s not even an issue of narrative kicking my ass at this point. It’s just getting words on a page.

There’s run of the mill writer’s block.

And then there’s this.

And it’s frustrating as all get out.

To say the least.

I’d insert a long string of expletives and rude gestures as I usually do…

But I’m really, effing TIRED.

It just might be nap time.

Maybe I’ll take one wrapped up in my new blanket.

Bob ordered my birthday present back in November and it finally arrived this month.

It’s a hooded MOOGLE blanket.

It’s super soft and fluffy and it has wings on the back.

It’s a critter and a blanket all in one.

It’s like he knows me.

Kupo.

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