My lungs and belly are squeezed again. The elephant foot of generalized anxiety disorder is striking me back. Cutting the dose of the antidepressant is not working. It’s too soon for that. The omnipresent chill and the overlapping light-speed thoughts around my possible mistakes in dealing with people are getting me back to paralysis. A high amount of effort, energy and discipline is summoned to get this giant foot out of my chest. I fear the abyss of exhaustion presented to me. I hope the reposition of the dose of the antidepressant does its thing.
I have no salary now. I left teaching, definitely. I am trying to collect and sell houses to earn commissions. It is weird, talking on the phone and presenting myself as the ideal partner to solve financial stresses. All I want is to make comic books.