Not doing so great over here. I had a complete break down last night. I haven’t been on my meds in a while (long story, issues with my new pharmacy, insurance, etc) and haven’t gone to the doctor since we moved this summer. It is getting to the point where I need to see someone, get a new prescription, it is getting bad. This summer, my issues were off and on. I could manage it. But since a August it has been progressively getting worse. I’m sure some of it has to do with weather. A lot of it has to do with the issues with the school district and my license. A lot of it has to do with a large argument that I got into with my father in law, who I adore usually. And a lot more has to do with the fact that I am realizing that I have a very small support system, and that I am starting to see that my mom is a fair weather kind of…mom? And my grandmother, well. I already know she just thrives off of any kind of bad news she can get. If it isn’t talking about how badly one of my aunts or cousins are doing, it is something horrific on the news. If I tell my mom that I’m having some hard times and feeling unwell, she shuts down and stops responding. I feel really isolated. I try to talk to Nick, but his reaction is to joke and try to make me laugh. He has never been depressed before. It freaks him out, and he gets scared that I will commit suicide. I’d be lying through my teeth if I said the thought didn’t cross my mind. It does. Probably more often than an average or a non clinically depressed person. I won’t do it though, it is selfish, it is a permanent solution to a temporary problem, it is scary. I feel really alone, my friends are all hours away. Hell. I barely saw them anyway anymore. By the time you’re in your late 20s, everyone is so busy with their own lives. I understand that. I wouldn’t feel comfortable talking to them about my mental health issues anyway. Nick says maybe I should see a therapist again. I don’t know. I’ve been to talk therapy on and off for years. Going as short as a couple of months, and having gone for over a year. It doesn’t help. Not me. For me, it is bad genetics. A chemical imbalance. My old doctor back home said that I would probably be on medication for most of my life. This is all I have right now. An outlet. I feel like running away. Nick wants to go to GA for Thanksgiving like we usually do this year. I don’t. I’m feeling really bad, I feel like a bad person, like an asshole. I don’t want to see his brothers because I got in the fight with their dad in front of them and my new sister in law. I don’t want to see his cousins because I don’t think they like me. I think they think I’m annoying and an asshole. I’m scared I’m going to lose my job. In two weeks. Nick says it will be okay, he’ll find a new job, we can move, it’s okay. It isn’t though. Not really. It will be hard as hell for me to find a new job. No one wants me, not with my lame ass art degree. Not with my weird hob job of experience. I only had a handful of interviews after moving to the upstate, and the only offer I got was from the school. The interviews ranged too - from teaching to admin work to working in a behavioral health center with autistic kids, to managing a website…and I sent hundreds of applications, resumes, phone calls, emails. I redid my entire resume for each job. I am so scared of that again. I was scared it would be like it was when I worked at the sign shop, when I went on like 17 interviews and nothing happened. When I was so desperate. And it was turning into that again. I don’t want that. Who wants to hire a teacher who was forced to resign because of ‘unprofessional conduct’? That makes it sound like I cursed out a bunch of kids in a class or something. I just want this year to be over. I’ve gained back 25 of the 40 pounds I lost last year also. That doesn’t help. I feel like a stuffed piglet. But I am just eating away my stress - the cravings are awful. I feel like I have no control.
I have no control over my job situation. I have no control over my emotions. I have no control over what I eat. I feel like a runaway train or some other lame ass saying that people say. I have no self control. No control over myself or my life. I’m not a very religious person but I keep praying. Praying to just let this be over, let me just be happy. Please God, please? I’m just so tired of fighting. I feel like it is just one thing after another for us, always. Nothing stays good. Everything is harder than what you think it will be. People suck ass, even the ones who are supposed to be on your side suck ass. Your friends aren’t really there for you, they’re too tied up in their own lives. Your husband has no clue how to react to your huge ball of emotions that you’ve been trying to keep together for months. Your family is either interested in exacerbating - am I using that word right? I don’t know. Don’t care. -your problems, ignoring them, or just pretending that you don’t exist at all (the pretending I don’t exist is most of my family. Including my brother and sister). I’ve always worked. It is so hard to not work when you’ve always worked. I feel like an asshole and a loser. I feel like I’ve made poor life choices. I keep trying to keep my chin up, but there is only so much more a girl can take. I feel so alone. I’m surrounded by happy and giggly kids all day long, surrounded by people all day. And I feel so so so alone. I don’t know how to reach out and ask for help anymore because I’ve done everything on my own in my life. Pushed myself through college working two jobs because I thought college would help me. Got married to my husband alone. Bought a house and cars, ALONE. With no help. Lived on my own, paid my own bills, ALONE. All for what? For me to lose my career, one I finally love, because some assholes in the low-country want to make me an example. Buy a house for what? To rent it at the cost of my mortgage and not be able to afford to improve it and sell it because we moved. Buy cars for what? Who the fuck cares. I get the feeling that I’ve busted my ass all of my life for no good reason. That all my hard work, or what I think is hard work, just wasn’t enough and wasn’t the right thing to do anyway. That maybe I’m not as nice or good as I have tried to believe that I am.
Who wants to hear me whine about my life anyway. First world problems. Whatever. No one wants to hear about that. A few years ago, when I was having another rough time, I tried to talk to someone who I thought was a close friend and later on they told me that it made them want to stop talking to me. Chalk that up to experience. The only place that you can let it out is a diary where people can choose to click the ‘X’ in the top right corner if it makes them that uncomfortable.
Sorry for the depression filled rant. I hoped it would make me feel better but it doesn’t.
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