I'm not okay

I am, in fact, so very far from okay that I find it hard to even see the collapsing waveform of okay from here.

I've spoken to my supervisor, and my doctor. I'm - so far - having bad luck in having and keeping a preliminary appointment with the college counselling service.

If I've been silent here, it's not just that I'm distracted. It's that it seems like my whole world is crumbling, that I can't run up the sand-dune without being pitched back down in the clinging crumbling sand.

The first thing I have to do is get my physical body back in shape. There isn't much point pretending that mind and body are separable: they're not, and since physical fitness is something I can affect, I need to try. Starting gradual.

My to-do list between now and next Wednesday:
Review (and in a couple of cases read) the books for which I owe reviews. A Stranger In Olondria. The Exiled Blade. The Shining Girls. Queen of Nowhere.
Write the materials I need for my progress review: bibliography, analytic commentary, timetable for completion.
Run in intervals for a fifteen-minute count every day, or every second day. (May be starting with 1:2 intervals, but one must begin somewhere.)

I'm trying not to let self-hate and self-loathing and unforgiveness fuck me over too much more. Life, what? It's a funny business.