I keep neglecting this blog and it’s hard because I actively think about how it’s been so long since I’ve written here, but sometimes I just can’t bring myself to start up again. The truth is I’ve been feeling passionless the past few months. It feels like my dreams of being a writer are getting more and more implausible and far away from me. I haven’t written a poem in months. I’m scared if I try, it will turn out wrong. That the last poem I wrote is the best I’ll ever write and maybe my good ideas have dried up. The thought of where I am in my life right now frankly makes me want to cry most days. And I often do.
The pandemic has taken a toll on me in ways I never could have predicted. It has shown me I can survive a lot of things I didn’t know I could, but I’m starting to get tired of feeling like I’m just surviving. I want to be happy and I truly don’t know the last time I felt consistently good. I have small bursts, specific moments, where I feel like myself and I’m genuinely carefree. But those times are sporadic.
I started a new job almost a month ago. I’m working for a startup managing their social media and company website. I’m grateful to be employed. So few people have that luxury these days. I cast out hundreds of job applications and saw my bank account creep down dangerously low before something stuck. I got the offer and felt such relief. I would be able to stay in DC and not have to return home to CT to live in my parent’s house and feel like I had failed.
Yet, as much as I keep telling myself I am lucky and I need to be appreciative of the situation I’m in, I also feel deeply unhappy. I cried every day of my first week of work when I got home. I felt and still feel so much imposter syndrome. I am the youngest person in my company and most days I wonder if I’m even cut out for what they hired me to do. My anxiety gets the best of me and I have been having so many intrusive thoughts of failing, of everyone hating me, of being fired. A big part of me is also still mourning how I gave up on finding a writing job. I don’t know that I have the talent to be a writer or if I deserve it. Right now I’m feeling defeated and more than a little bit lost.
Last week was my birthday and instead of feeling excited, I felt anxious and melancholy. Getting older didn’t feel like something full of possibility. It felt scary and sad.
I want to be independent and able to support myself. Yet, I don’t like my day to day life and I don’t even know that DC is the place for me anymore. My close friends are now scattered across states and continents and I feel so isolated from everyone. My support system feels shaky and like it’s dwindling by the month.
Socializing is so much more difficult than it used to be with pandemic concerns, work schedules, and my deteriorated mental state. Most days I wonder why anyone would want to be around me in the state I’m in.
I also don’t know how to make new friends postgrad. It feels so forced and sometimes downright impossible. There are no activities to join or places to go to meet people because of COVID. Should I join Bumble for friends? Even most of the close friends that I used to have in college feel distant from me. Something is shifting and I feel myself growing apart from certain people.
Right before I got my job offer, I was highly considering starting over completely. I wanted to move away from DC and give myself a fresh start in a new environment. A large part of me still craves that. Maybe I just miss traveling or DC doesn’t feel like it used to or maybe I am truly ready to move on from this place and this chapter of my life. Regardless, I have never felt lonelier in my life than I do right now.
I am working to get to a place of feeling more balanced and content where I am. I want to stop picking myself apart for not being perfect right now. I know that I deserve to be gentle with myself. Yet, I find myself feeling increasingly negative and depressed. It’s a hole I don’t quite know how to stop digging. I’m trying.
I think the lack of having anything to look forward to is what really gets me. I miss traveling, I miss live music, I miss human touch. Hell, I even miss going out on the weekends and I never was very into parties. I miss soaking up DC and having adventures in this city. I miss how I used to feel about my life.
I logically know that this is a depressive episode that I’ll pull out of, but mentally I am drained. I want to stop waking up and dreading the day. Counting down the hours till I can go home and curl up in my bed. I don’t feel satisfied in any aspect of my life. Not my work, my friendships, my health, my appearance, my skills, my passions. I feel stagnant.
I know this isn’t a particularly positive post. I wanted to end this rant on a high note, but I’m having a difficult time doing that. Life is hard right now. I want to believe things are on the up and up. I’m working on having a better outlook. Until then, I’m just trying to take life day by day.