These days, my mental health has been on the rocks. There's a myriad of factors involved, the pandemic being the most obvious contender, and I'm sure most people out there have been feeling something similar.
When the lockdown started last year it was obviously stressful, but my personal silver lining was that I was going to catch up on all of the media I hadn't otherwise had the time for. Every game, every book, every show became a respite when seemingly every part of my life — from my work to my relationships to my religious identity — were all exploding.
But after a while though, the effects of my escapism began to lose their potency. Playing games felt like a chore, and any time I put on a show I found my mind wandering back to my stressors instead. Social media became the only thing that could hold my attention, but the constant bombardment of information became too much for me.
My anxiety had fully taken over, and the distractions I usually deployed to cheer me up suddenly all blurred into noise in my head. I knew I was in trouble when I had no interest in watching Tangled, my comfort movie to end all comfort movies. I was burned out not only on work, but on my favorite media too, and that is not a good feeling.
