July (as most July’s seem to go) was a bad month for me all around. My seasonal affective disorder was at it’s highest for the year, and my depression was raging. My panic attacks made a return throughout the few hours of sleep that I could find at night. During the day my mind was a blank mess that only wanted to sleep. I wasn’t myself, and I wasn’t o.k., and I wasn’t sure that August would find me…

I hate months like that where there are more bad days than good, more bad days than o.k. ones, more wretched days than decent ones. It is a cycle that feels never-ending. It is frustrating, I’m taking all of the steps to try and have better days, but it isn’t working at all.

I’m still exhausted, but mentally I’m in a better way than I was a week ago. I hope and pray that August is kinder.