I was on OD for most of its lifetime under a different name and I’ve apparently had this account here for a few years but I haven’t used it until now. So here I am! I recently quit social media due to, you know, everything, but I love chattering into a big fat text box so here I am back on a diary site.
My big problem is depression. That’s unfortunately not a rare issue and chances are that if you’re reading this you’re also struggling with it but god DAMN it sucks. I am so tired of fighting with my brain every moment of the day. It’s so dang silly, folks. My life right now is, objectively, fantastic. I am in my 40s, married to the most darling man in the world who is still enthusiastically in love with me even though my brain is broken and I’ve gained a ton of weight, we have a cozy little home, we have awesome cats. . .like, my life is good. I am truly blessed. But my brain won’t let me really soak that in, you know? Intellectually, I know that I have a good life. Philosophically, I know it. There’s nothing actually wrong with my life! But everything always feels awful forever. I’ve tried gratitude journals and similar, but it just makes me feel worse for some reason. I guess it’s because, again, I know I’m lucky! I do know that! I try so hard to be grateful! But there’s just this block that makes feeling it impossible, if that makes sense.
I’ve been on various antidepressants for decades. They either don’t work, boost my heart rate into the stratosphere, or - in the case of vilazodone - work so wonderfully for six months that I think maybe I’m cured, and then they just stop working and I’m worse off because I got to experience a healthy mind for just long enough to get used to it. I’ve got a contingent of friends telling me to take psychedelics which I can guarantee you would open up a shiny new world of schizophrenia for me, so I can’t do that - but I do recognize they’ve worked for other people. I don’t know what to fuckin’ do, bro. I volunteer, because I thought that maybe helping other folks would shake me out of this awful haze, but nope. I just feel depressed while I’m helping people much worse off than me. It doesn’t make me feel any more grateful; it just makes me feel even more awful, because whyyyy do I have to be like this when there are other people in much more dire straits?
We’re doing well enough for me not to absolutely have to work, but not for me to be able to afford therapy, unfortunately. There are sliding scale therapists, but the last one I used just kind of yes-manned me and also tried to sell me Mary Kay, which was weird and uncomfortable. I need a therapist who will kick my ass sometimes and also maybe one who will not try to sell me shitty MLM products while they’re supposed to be counseling me. And the wait for the affordable therapists at this point is immensely long, because everyone is depressed and poor.
I’ve felt a little unmoored lately. Firefox doesn’t seem to think that’s a real word, which is incorrect. It’s a word, and it’s a feeling, and it’s what I am. Unmoored. I will not be daunted by your squiggly little red line, Firefox. I am unmoored because I moved across the country ten years ago to live with my husband and I’ve had trouble finding my footing here ever since. I don’t regret it, because my husband is the best thing that has happened to me and had I stayed back where I was, I imagine I’d be every bit as sad as I am now, but I wouldn’t have my husband to lean on and I’d be stuck in a small town that hates me (the feeling is mutual) instead of a big city that doesn’t know I exist. I can take a twenty-minute train ride and visit world-class restaurants and museums.
But it was hard moving my entire life up here.
I never needed a big circle of friends. I am a huge introvert. I was always very happy with one or two close friends. I have yet to meet those close friends up here, and I’m figuring it probably won’t happen. Most of my social interaction comes from my D&D group, which is great, but they’re all dudes. I’ve tried making inroads with their wives, but it just isn’t going anywhere. None of them are ever mean to me, of course, and I don’t take it personally - by the time you’re in your thirties and forties, you’ve generally got your friends group tightened up. You’re not purposefully excluding anyone; you just don’t have room in your life for new people. That’s completely reasonable. It still sucks for me, though. Just one close friend would be great. That looks so pathetic now that I’ve typed it out, but there you go.
Additionally, since I lost my job back during the height of the pandemic and stopped talking to people on a daily basis, my social anxiety/awkwardness has gotten so bad. I feel myself crumpling like aluminum foil any time I talk to someone. What a mess.
I don’t know. I didn’t really have much of a point to this. I just wanted to get it all out in writing, and I do feel a little better. So thanks for reading!
Loading comments...