I feel… wrong. Sometimes it feels almost like being dizzy, like my head is disconnected and floating slightly above my body like a balloon on a short string. Sometimes it feels like everything around me is moving at a slightly faster tempo than I am.
The amount of times I say “I don’t know” on any given day has quadrupled, at least — I never know what I want to watch, want to drink, want to eat, want to do in my free time. Or, if I do and that turns out not to be an option, I am generally unable to think of a second option. It’s been so hard to write lately, for the past month or so with only short-lived exceptions.
Yesterday, I locked my keys in my car because I’d forgotten to put them in my pocket. A couple weeks ago I “lost” my credit card because I put it in my back pocket, right into the middle of a stack of business cards, and a couple days after I “found” it again I forgot to take the cards out of the pocket and they disintegrated in the wash.
Is this what depression feels like? Or am I just psyching myself out? Because between my growing dread of an upper endoscopy, fretfulness about switching to all gluten free all the time, the anxiety I already had anyway, recently fiddling with my medication, and the fact that it’s 100° F out again today… I just don’t know anymore.