I am tired everyday. I don’t think I can actually recall a time in which I wasn’t tired. You know when you look around you and think “I should pick that up, I should put it away” or “I should do some washing” and then you just can’t? Yesterday, my wonderful boyfriend was on his way home from work. I noted the time and knew I had an hour. When I’m working (I work 11-14 hour days), he cooks. When I’m off work (as per a post ago, I have been given a week off by the doctor due to anxiety), I usually cook. This sounds incredibly selfish but I never cook because I want to. I mean, I do want to but rather that I can barely get myself to move. It’s always out of obligation because my boyfriend helps me so much in every way that I force myself to get up. Last night though, I couldn’t. I tried, I thought I should at least prepare the meal but I didn’t. Instead I laid here thinking about how much I wish I could do that, but I can’t. Then, at the time expected, he got home. And we had a conversation about his day and he asked me about mine and I just started crying to him and telling him how I wanted to cook for him but I couldn’t. And because he’s amazing, he was so soothing and said it didn’t matter at all. But how unfair is that?? He comes back after a long day of work to find his selfish girlfriend lying down and complaining about how she refused to get up to help him? I get angry at myself and to tell you the truth, I’m so tired of being tired. Just so you know, I’m not just an outright bitch. I care a lot for the people around me and I show them as much as I can. In this instance though, it wasn’t being lazy, it wasn’t that I couldn’t be bothered, it’s that I couldn’t. I feel stuck, I don’t know how to get myself out of this and how to be a regular person. I don’t know how to get to a place in which I can actually just do things because that’s how life works. I wish, for instance, that I could walk down the street to the supermarket by myself in the middle of the day because I’m hungry and there’s no food in the house. Instead, I would either sit here drinking lots of water until my boyfriend gets home and I would go with him (only at night when there’s less people around and it’s dark), or most likely he would go alone. That’s not right, I know it’s not and yet what do I do? My psychologist is helping me through my past and it’s great to talk about things but I’m not feeling inspired enough after a session to go out by myself anywhere except the short walk to my car. And even that is incredibly hard, I shake, I look around me all the time like someone is going to attack me, my heart is thumping and the noise in my head is excruciating until I get in my car and finally it goes silent. I don’t want to take medication because I really don’t want to admit to myself that I have a problem and maybe it would be a good idea. So instead, I’ll do what I always do. Lie here in my bed, avoiding all responsibility and denying myself a proper life. I’ll justify it to myself because I can. In fact, I can already feel it starting to take over.