Being pregnant confuses me. It takes all my energy, every last bit. What I’m left with is little desire to pursue anything that makes me happy.
I’m overwhelmed with emotion and fatigue seemingly all day every day. I want to rise up, to counter all that perturbs me with logic and motivation. But I dig, I dig deep. And all I find is preoccupation with negative thoughts, fueled not just by bodily fatigue but mental tiredness.
I spend 20 percent of the day trying to tell myself to eat. Eat what though?.. I spend 20 percent trying to decide. I spend 20 percent of the day pleading with myself not to throw up. This feat itself takes the most energy out of me, besides the general tiredness that drains me all day long.
The last 20 percent I feel ok enough to have hope, to let optimism creep in, to start thinking about what I can do myself, for myself, to be happy. But an hour later I no longer have the energy to make myself happy. That’s why I feel so much better when I’m with Joel. He makes me happy when I don’t have the energy to do things for my self.
I’m trying my best. I’m doing my best. I need to believe that there is a new mindset that I will soon be able to discover. One of appreciation and gratitude. One with stability. I need to believe that this is the storm before the sun comes out.
I need to take care of myself when I can, and when I can’t I need to reach out to family and friends. Or else I’m just going to keep bullying myself. Feeling shitty and then bullying myself for not being able to deal with the shit on my own. I’m going to persevere.