I didn’t do anything on my list today, but I did get out of bed despite my desire to burrow under my covers and hibernate until I finally feel alive again. I’m trying my best.

My depression and anxiety are fighting each other. My anxiety is screaming at my messy room, but when I get up to clean my depression says, “I can’t”. My bones feel too heavy to move, and my mind feels like nails on a chalkboard. I’m trying my best.

When I look in the mirror and see the stretch marks all over my thighs, I can’t help but think that everyday there’s more. It leads me into a shame spiral and nearly pushes me down the rabbit hole of dangerous habits, but I resist and resist the urges. I have to remind myself that it’s okay that I’m not a size zero anymore, but I’m never very convincing. I’m trying my best.

I don’t know what I’m doing with my life. I have no plans, but wild dreams that I don’t believe I’ll ever achieve. I’m always looking out of the corners of my eyes suspecting judgment. They don’t say a word, but sometimes I think I can read minds. I want to blurt out “I’m trying my best” before anyone can say a word.

I feel myself falling short of everyone’s expectations, but the expectations I hold for myself are the highest of all. I hold the type of expectations for myself that aren’t humanly possible to reach, but still I’m disapointed in myself every time I don’t make it up a mountain that’s never ending. I have to keep saying to myself, “I’m trying my best”.

I think my words are my power source, but I don’t think a lot of people are listening. Sometimes I feel like the girl that everyone talks over but has the most to say in the entire room. I’m getting a little louder though, and I won’t let my voice be drowned out in the background. I’m trying my best.

I wore a mask everyday before COVID-19, wouldn’t let anyone know what was underneath. I take it off now as long as you keep your distance. I don’t want to infect you, and I don’t want you to infect me. I’m trying my best.

Please don’t get too close because I am like a deer afraid of being hunted. You may have the purest intentions, but I will always be afraid of what you find when you finally get a close up. Still, I will be vulnerable if you promise not to rip my guts out. I’m trying my best.

I used to keep a lock on my journal, but now I’m here posting it for everyone to know exactly how I’m feeling and what I’m thinking. I’m trying my best.

I still feel my PTSD running through my veins despite my best efforts to detox. I don’t think it will ever leave my system, but I’ve learned how to live with it. It doesn’t kill me or consume me anymore. I’m trying my best.

The people that hurt me the most did a number on my mind. They twisted and turned my mind into a haunted maze and threw out the map. They’re the reason I have PTSD and the reason I went mad. Sometimes it’s hard for me to believe in the good of people. It’s hard for me to trust them or even myself. Sometimes it feels like I’m always sleeping with one eye open, and I’m still searching for that map. Regardless of the damage they’ve done, deep down my instinct is to still believe the best in people. I’m trying my best.

I feel lonely and cold to the touch, and I stopped going on dates and even just talking to guys. Yes, it’s lonely, but it spares me the whirl of anxiety I get when I try to trust and open myself up to another person. It spares me the dizziness and spinning, but it makes my life feel like it’s in slow motion. I’m trying my best.

Without warning, tears fall down my face. There’s no pit in my stomach, no knot in my throat. Like I never had a chance to hold them back. I try to convince myself that I’m trying my best. The truth is, a lot of the time our best doesn’t feel good enough, but that shouldn’t take away from the fact that we are indeed trying our best.

I spend some nights crying now, but I used to spend them forcing myself to hold every tear, feeling, and emotion in. I’m trying my best.

I know I need to make an appointment with my therapist, but I always push it off until I’m balancing on breaking beams. I don’t know if I do it because I’m afraid of unleashing all of the feelings and emotions, or if I simply can’t access my feelings and emotions right now. Am I too numb to unthaw right now? I’m trying my best.

When I feel like I need to crawl out of my skin, and I feel like I need something sharp to cut me loose, I look at my old faint scars. I lay the blade down and say “not today”. I’m trying my best.

When I’m tempted to drive my car into the biggest ditch I can find, I keep my wheel straight, and I keep moving forward. I’m trying my best.

Despite the darkness, the scattered shards of glass, the chemical imbalances, the irreversible damage in my brain, I’m still here today. I’m trying my best.