The other day I couldn’t sleep. And I usually have no problem sleeping.
It was the second night in a row I was up, riddled with anxiety and frustration. I was scared about what was next, I was sad for no reason, and I didn’t know how to handle all the self-deprecating, prideful, and anxious thoughts that were plaguing me.
I didn’t want to wake my mom so I called a good friend of mine I knew would be awake. She talked me through an anxiety attack for an hour before I laid down again at 2 am. I prayed and did rhythmic breathing before finally falling asleep around 3.
As with any post that contains incredibly personal themes, I must preface the blog with this: I am okay and I do not want you to ask me if I’m okay or talk about my mental health to other people without my permission. Good? Good.
So here’s the story.
I woke up and the weather app told me that today was going to be the best day in a couple months. The temperature was a glorious number of 64 degrees and I had my favorite class later. It was going to be a perfect day.