I don’t want to glorify depression. As a writer, it’s natural to glorify both the good and the bad, because life and all it includes is beautiful. I am fascinated with happiness as much as I am with pain. Drama and tragedy are my favorite parts of a story, but I cried last night about the exploitation animals and people experience every day. In a story, the death of a unique character with his or her own perspectives is layered with growth and lesson for the other characters and reader, but in real life, the passing of a loved one feels like a personal punishment.
I try to keep my blog a primarily shining beacon, but I feel like I’m lying about or hiding a very essential part of me. I’m scared that if I show this cloudy, hopeless side of me, you will shy away. In this world, it is becoming more mainstream to accept the inner demons we have, but also in this world, we must stay silent. The only way to accept the sadness and be strong is to deny ourselves its there.
Well, I don’t know if it’s clinical, as I’ve never bothered to get it diagnosed, but I feel depressed.
In high school, I thought it was one too many heartbreaks and lack of self-esteem. After graduating and being happier than I’d ever been, I took a year-long break from school. I continued my reign of happiness and confidence by getting a summer job as a busser at the local café and ended up working into the slower season. There was a point in which I began to doubt myself, but I worked up the mental strength to completely rewrite my attitude towards the job and again become the happiest I had ever been. I possessed so much confidence. I could conquer anything.
My coworker began training me for waitressing, and eventually I got a promotion to waitress. I loved the flow of a successful night, my new found confidence, and strength it gave me. But then came the summer, busier nights, being the sole waitress on the floor, and getting scolded by my manager in front of all my customers. I wasn’t fast enough.
I cried countless times in the prep room and began to develop anxiety. My main coworker, who was also my friend, began treating my differently, and to this day I don’t know what happened for sure. I assume that it was because of the week I missed. She was going to San Diego for a wedding, and I was trained specifically to keep the restaurant open. I think I managed Thursday and called in sick for Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. I think the two waitresses lost all respect for me. Giovanni was disappointed too. Our boss’s boss was furious and wanted to fire me, but our boss was like our grumpy grandfather. He gave me a scary lecture and then put me back to bussing. I ended up cutting my full-time hours to part-time.
I didn’t want to be there anymore. I forced myself back into my shell.
My excuse for quitting was school, but I had really lost all my confidence and love of the job. The walls contained too many negative feelings.
School was a new beginning, and I thrived in the first semester. I fell in love with the college setting and classes. Second semester, the feeling disappeared and I didn’t feel as happy. I don’t know if I simply liked college because it was an escape from my old job, and in the second semester, the covers had been pulled. Maybe I missed learning about new subjects. Maybe I liked sharing the experience with my boyfriend and meeting new people. Something about it died for me. I hadn’t wanted to go after high school, and I didn’t want to go now that I had been here. I ended up dropping two classes. I don’t regret it, but I wish I had known what made me loose my drive. Actually, my drive was in my joy, and I lost all my joy. Again…
I haven’t been the same since I left my job. I tried going back in April and earned enough money to pay my tuition, but the same negativity struck me. I worked a little harder in school because of it, but I was far too ready to for summer. No, it wasn’t summer. I didn’t have to be in school. July was filled with ups and downs, but I really started concentrating on blogging. I want to continue blogging and writing all the stories in my soul.
This is so frustrating. I bet in my blog, there’s a couple other posts in which I promise myself I will dedicate myself to my writing, and then I don’t. I get tied in other commitments that I believe will be interesting but also benefit me financially. Balance beams and I were not made to be. I keep getting back on with soap bars as my shoes.
I don’t mean that I shouldn’t explore; exploring is healthy and worthwhile for everyone, of any age, but I’m denying myself of what makes me happy. I’m tormenting myself.
My week slips through my fingers, as I psyche myself out to get my school assignments done and leave the rest of the week for studying and writing. And art. And mini adventures. My life. The life I want to live.
Depression is hitting hard. I’m not sleeping well, and for the past two days I’ve left Gio to sleep on a couch and cry myself to sleep; I’m loosing my appetite; I struggle to find reason to get out of bed; I spend chunks of my day sleeping; Half the time I feel sick, the other time I feel a pain or sickness coming on. Overall, I feel very lonely.
I’m considering the free consoling at school, but I always felt weary of therapists. The thought of paying someone to listen and care about me feels contradictory. And to discourage me further, my first and last professional therapist seemed concerned about the financial side of things when I started paying for my therapy sessions (which were $30 discounted) rather than my parents (full-price), instead of the reason why I started paying. In one session, she scolded me about a decision I made, and another time when I talked about my relationship with Giovanni, she discredited the seriousness of it because “[we’re] both so young.”
Since then, I’ve been extra cautionary about therapy, considering it only when I feel like I’m drowning in my head. And that’s where I am. I have a throbbing headache on the left side of my head, a stomach ache, and body pain. Earlier today, I felt nauseous and didn’t have an appetite. After doing some online doctoring, I’ve concluded that I have the flu. On Tuesday, I went to UC Berkeley for a vegan outreach, and the night before my stomach started hurting, and on the day of the outreach, I had a migraine and extreme nausea. I didn’t eat, but when we got to the car, I nearly puked.
So I’m a mess. And now you know.
I’m always trying to make positive progress, and blogging has been a great adventure and learning experience. I appreciate your support in watching my humble little blog grow.
I’m sorry if the blog has errors. I need to go lie down. Be well, everyone. ❤
Daily Prompt: Pretend