Today is not a day I want to write about.
I begin the day writing about Friday, thinking about my anxiety, about work and the changes that have happened. I pause often to consider how I was feeling then, remembering the fear, the doubts, the lurking darkness in me.
There is no denying it. I am anxious, powerless, scared.
We argue with my partner, the topic of our argument the most common one. I cannot let it go. I am annoyed and cannot find a way out of my frustration. I rationally know there are no reasons for me to cling to how I feel. It is not healthy.
I retreat to the study and work on personal projects, my mind absorbed with the task at hand. Eventually I return downstairs, with a quieter mind. We talk, with my partner. Fragile and open I whisper often, the words too scary to say aloud.
I turn on the Nintendo Switch, lower the sound of the game as low as I can while my partner tunes in the Hay-On-Wye festival. I listen to the talk absentmindedly often too engaged it catching every lego studs I see on the screen, blasting benches, books, and every other surface the game will let me.
After a while, we go for a walk, the wind battering our ears and keeping conversations short. We return home late. I head to the study and breathe, my mind still for a while, and let go of the anger that has lived in me all day. Downstairs my partner is cleaning the dishes. I prepare an apéritif. Plates and cutlery drying on the rack, we move to the living room and play Scrabble for a while to the sound of mellow Jazz. Later, we cook dinner and eat at the dining table. We retreat to the sofa, my partner reads, I listen to the sounds of Queer Out Here. The sky grows dark outside, our bodies slump on the sofa, our attention drifts from our tasks, we go to bed and fall asleep.