I can feel a grey veil falling over my mind. It sounds lyrical and perhaps beautiful.

Like a classical sculpture of a human, sat in a reflective pose, with the most delicate of carving of a veil over their head. Pretty words framing a upcoming miserable period as something aesthetic.

Clearly it’s not.

But it’s accurate. Everything has a grey filter. Not a moody black & white filter, but just a grey wash over everything. I want to pick something to watch, or read, or listen to, or eat… But none of it is appealing. How could it be? It’s all washed out and grey.

But I have noticed it. And as much as it pains me to say it, I am kinda prepared for this. It’s just really the first time I’m starting to navigate things without a therapist on the schedule. There’s no “Let’s work this out on Friday” this time.

This is, like it or not, life, it has seasons, weather. And it can’t rain all the time. It’s just weather and this will pass.

I have noticed it, and although it’s hard, and I don’t want to and it feels pointless and I just want to lie down to cry and so many other reasons that my brain is just lying to me, there are things I can do, for me, so that this too will pass.

I’ve told some folks closest to me I’m feeling shit, I’ve said yes to seeing some friends and wrote it on the calendar, I’ve sent some of my art and crafts to folks so that I can steal some joy by proxy, I’ve ordered some art supplies, I’ve cleaned my space and I’m going to try a new thing too.

Notes by my unreliable narrator, a little place to write down all the smeagol sounding mistruths my brain likes at times like these. It’s supposed to help you see how harsh, ridiculous or just untrue these things are and perhaps close a loop and end the rumination.

A notebook for all the harsh little lies my brain likes to tell me when everything feels grey.

Yes, the bubble letters are intentional.

They’re not my aesthetic.

That’s the point.