Just when I thought I had managed to shake my air of malaise, it jumped me and belted me square across the jaw. "Reeling" doesn’t capture the full experience here... I took the hit, launched backwards, and hit my head on what I think was a concrete floor when I landed. The big D has become like a hulking bare-knuckles fighter who stands above me and lets me shake off the last hit and get back up only because it means that knocking me down again will do that much more damage.
I can’t begin to tell you how fed up I am of this pattern.
The worst thing is that I’ve got an irrational cause and effect reasoning going on in my head. I keep having instances where I can demonstrate renewed resolve and sometimes even renewed movement when a new (and sometimes even more terrible) stressor suddenly appears. Not long ago, E actually went so far as to ask me if I wanted to get better. Yeah, you’d think the answer should be obvious, but there is a queer sense I have that even committing to the idea of pulling myself out of this hole will conjure some calamity that will make things infinitely worse. Think this might be the source of my unending rut? This idea that inaction is the best course of action since it’s better to be marginally miserable than to be torturously so? It doesn’t make much sense that positive action breeds negative consequences, but then most of the time I don’t make much sense either.
There's more, but I just don't have it in me right now. Sorry.