This isn’t a cry for help, nor is it a bid for attention. It’s not a warning sign or a precursor to anything dangerous. It’s just an honest snapshot of where I’m at right now—something I suspect more people might relate to than we often admit out loud.

Lately, there’s been a pile-up of thoughts and feelings that don’t always make sense together, but they all exist at the same time:

* I hate that the current world and my history contribute to mild depression.
* I hate that I have ADHD, PTSD, and mild depression.
* I hate that my friend died this year.
* I hate that I rolled my ankle.
* I hate that I haven’t run consistently since rolling my ankle.
* I hate that I don’t run faster, farther, or smoother than I do.
* I hate that when I don’t run, I feel down.
* I hate that I feel daily pain when I run, and a different kind of daily pain if I don’t run.
* I hate that sometimes, recently, I’ve started to equate running with physical appearance, when I had always linked it to mental fitness in the past.
* I hate my body.
* I hate the fact that I hate my body when I know I’m doing pretty good fitness-wise.

None of these exist in isolation—they stack, overlap, contradict each other, and sometimes just sit there quietly in the background.

This post is for anyone else carrying a list like this, whether it looks similar or completely different. If you’ve got your own version running through your head, just know you’re not the only one. You’re not alone in feeling it, even if it feels that way sometimes.