*incoming long rant*
2020 is such a bloody write off at this point. Global pandemic and my faith in humanity is an all time low.
Still no word about whether I'm going back to work, which is worrying since my furlough pay ends in October. Luckily we have enough money to cover bills/rent for a year or two, but it's not something I want to think about right now, and that money was supposed to be towards buying a house for me and Emma.
Anxiety/depression got so bad that I'm back on citalopram, which is starting to help a bit, but it doesn't stop that underlying, lingering feeling of hopelessness.
Cut off from any realistic physical social contacts outside Emma's family, my own family is completely fucked up so I'm avoiding contacting them.
Personal savings an all time low. Getting fatter. The stress and anxiety of the past few months likely made me greyer than I normally should be.
Trying to keep my mind off it by going on walks etc, but I feel stuck and unable to move.
It'll be grand!