This isn’t a happy post, but I feel it’s one I may need to write just because, well, writing sometimes helps me figure out what I’m thinking. It’s also mostly just for myself to look back on later, hopefully from an improved state of mind, and realize that if I got out of this feeling, I can get through whatever troubles the future me is going through.
I think the biggest sign that I’m sinking low is that I want to do, and should do, so much, but I end up doing nothing. I’ve always been a procrastinator, but not to the extent that I do nothing.
Maybe I have too many goals. I want to write a web-comic, write stories, write poetry, travel the world, translate, volunteer, study Japanese, Russian, Italian, and Spanish, exercise, learn about the world and those in it, learn to cook, create cool stuff…
but I end up wallowing or escaping. It’s not good, not healthy.
I’ve had a lot of issues this past year, a lot of which are my own making in one way or another. A few broken relationships, feelings of betrayal that linger on long after the average person would say they should. They say time heals but it continues to sting nearly as fresh as the day I heard the news. Struggles to pay rent and insurance, much less buy food or go out with friends, with everyone I could normally ask for monetary help either too distant or also struggling. Tough times living with a newly married couple while in a long-distance relationship. Past insecurities popping up now and then that I thought I had beat down. A car that shuts off, making it unreliable for even a part-time job. Even though so close to graduation, a completely unknown future, where I can’t even afford to go to an interview.
All of these weave throughout my head on a semi-daily basis at unpredictable times. Sometimes I can brush them off like they ain’t no thang, sometimes they’re so overwhelming I have to physically stop what I’m doing and concentrate on breathing. Before this year I had never cried in front of anyone other than my family. Now I feel like anyone remotely close to me has seen me shed some tears.
I think I used to be funny once, too, but I don’t feel that anymore. I’m honestly surprised when people reach out to me. I feel very boring. Very unaccomplished. I’m Twenty-FOUR. That is a scary number to me. I know it will seem like a beautiful number when I’m older, but right now it is one that haunts me.
I just feel very hopeless a lot of the time, and I think unknowingly to myself. Unknowingly because I continuously make plans to do something productive and make myself feel better, and then the reality of money sets in, or another personal issue comes up and I go lower than I was before. I feel lonely and wonder if I’ll ever have a close friendship again, someone I can trust and talk to about everything. I am lucky that I have a couple that could become that close, but they are physically too far away to talk about the mundane stuff, which in some ways I feel is just as important as the big stuff to feel close to someone. And I know some people would say if you have a good boyfriend you don’t need friends, but I’ve never believed that. Friends are incredibly important to me.
But I am lucky too that my boyfriend cares for me so much despite how negative I’ve become. He says he knows what I’m capable of and says that I have power. I wonder if I’ll ever get to see him without being so very acutely aware that there is a very short time limit. Even when he studied abroad here he was in a different state. We usually got two days a month together, with, in one weekend, eight hours of driving for me and sixteen hours or so on a bus/in stations for him. It’s been over a year since we spent more than one week together and almost five months since I’ve seen him at all. Thank God for Skype, but also…it means we both have to constantly choose between doing anything productive outside the house and talking to each other. We can’t do both. If we do talk, the time difference makes certain that at least one of us is continuously jet-lagged.
I make all these plans…I’ll study Japanese for an hour, Spanish for an hour, exercise for an hour, write for an hour…but I don’t follow through. Exercise is the only thing I’ve come close to following through with, but even that I kicked to the curb as I felt this week’s low coming on.
I guess I should see someone professional since I’ve been like this almost a year, but I’ve always been suspicious of taking medicine for something like this. I guess if it helps it’s worth it. But then I feel the “what if I’m not me anymore…” feeling. Then again, looking back on this post, maybe not being me would be the best thing for me.
I think most of you non-existent readers have come to the same conclusion as I have for a long time; I need a cat.