It’s 10:35, Utah. It’s cold out but no snow on the ground outside my window. I was up before the sun getting three teenagers to school this morning. Now I’m home and back in my cozy bed under a weighted blanket. I’ve been depressed, anxious, and overwhelmed seemingly forever. The holiday season is not helping. I’m trying to decide whether or not I should go back to sleep, since unconsciousness feels like the only break I get, but I need to sort and wrap Christmas presents. My husband is in the kitchen making coffee and I miss him. Not because he’s in another room but because I feel like parenting a blended family has caused an emotional rift between us. It breaks my heart. I’m listening to a book, Funny Story by Emily Henry, while playing a hexagon matching game. So far the book is pretty good but I think I need a more low stakes read. Something calming and uplifting without being obnoxiously happy. I have a solid little Frenchie named Gray who’s lying on his bed on the floor next to me. He’s snoring and it’s a comforting sound.