Today felt heavy from the very beginning. My chest carried that familiar anxious weight, like a knot that refused to loosen. Even the simplest tasks seemed to pile up on me, louder and louder, until it all became too much. I kept trying to tell myself, “Just one step at a time,” but my brain wouldn’t quiet down long enough for me to believe it.
At some point, I drifted into that strange dissociated haze. I was there, but not really there. It’s like watching myself from behind a glass wall—everyone else moving through life so easily while I can barely hold on. The hours slipped past, and I barely remember half of them. That scares me, because it feels like I’m losing pieces of myself.
I want to cope, but it feels like my tools are dull right now. Breathing helps for a moment, grounding sometimes helps, but today those techniques felt flimsy, like they couldn’t hold me up. I kept thinking: Why can’t I just handle this? Why does it always feel so overwhelming?
Still, I made it through the day. That counts for something, even if it doesn’t feel like much right now. Maybe tomorrow will feel a little lighter. I hope I can find a way to reconnect with myself—slowly, gently, without pushing too hard.

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