August is historically a bad month for me. Every year I hope it will be different, that I'll be able to sleep, that I won't find it hard to simply get out of bed, shower, and make it to work. That the heat and humidity of the subway won't make me shake and sweat, that I won't run into the panic attacks that are all too familiar to me.

Especially this year I hoped because I'd been sober that I wouldn't let all of this get to me and stay sober. Unsurprisingly I failed; hope doesn't get me very far. So it was another round of missing work a couple of times, culminating in another ER visit Tuesday night after difficulty breathing.

I'm starting to feel better, but I'm tired of this. I'm tired of knowing it isn't improving. I'll keep moving but for now I just want to sleep through the night again, and feel like there's more than just going through the motions of life.

At least August is over.