I’m Glad I Can Cry In Front Of You

I’m having one of “those” days.

I woke up feeling quite depressed right off the bat and also agitated due to having only four hours of broken sleep. Not having my car adds to these feelings – I feel trapped on campus as I write this. I realized that whenever I don’t have my car, I end up sitting in the same spot on campus; outside the theater in building four, next to the surprisingly-clean bathroom that I spent a lot of time crying in last semester.

Last night my two friends, we’ll call them S and B, and I decided to go around and share one thing that “annoyed” us about the other (don’t ask how this got started). It ended up being more of expressing shared concerns rather than anything any of us truly being “annoyed”. B, my closest friend, whom I refer to as my “platonic soulmate”, told me how she wishes I would try harder and not give up so easily, specifically citing my notorious string of jobs I failed to stick with. I give up too easily. That’s true, and I agreed, saying that a lot of it comes from depression. Once I said that, I could feel my eyes growing wet and I shamefully turned away, muttering, “I’m sorry, it’s not you.”

S, who is hesitant to ever show affection, got up and wrapped her arms around me, then B did the same.

“I love you guys,” I told them. “It’s just been rough.”

We’re all struggling, each of us with our own separate internal and external issues. What it comes down to is we all want to see each other happy and successful. I know B really dislikes her job at this point, and I completely empathize with her feeling of dread when it comes to going to work. It’s awful. S wasn’t accepted into the graduate school of her choice and has to wait an entire year to reapply. I think we are at such a frustrating and terrifying age, and internal struggles just pile on top of everything else.

All in all, I felt incredibly grateful to have the friends that I do. Sometimes I think about where I’d be without them or what I’d do, and I can’t really fathom it.

I’m very complicated, and I’m so glad to have found other complicated people.

– Z


Money, Money, Money

It’s one of those weeks where absolutely nothing seems to be going right.

I sort of, but not really, quit my job. I didn’t show up Wednesday and I’ve blocked numbers so my supervisor can’t reach me. I feel like a failure, a loser, a fuck-up, but thinking about that place makes me so miserable and angry. I haven’t even gotten paid yet, so fuck them.
Also on Wednesday, I was backing out of my parking space at school when my car decided it wasn’t going to go into drive. After a while I got it to drive safely home and then to my mechanic. He told me the “transmission probably needs to be rebuilt”. So I had it towed away to a transmission shop where it’s estimated, if that is indeed the case, I will owe anywhere from two to three thousand dollars.

Are. You. Kidding. Me.

I have about six dollars in my wallet right now and five in the bank. I am not doing well financially. Granted, I’m never doing that well financially, but I owe my parents a fuck-ton of money and that debt keeps worsening. Thankfully they allow me to get in debt, because let’s be real, I don’t have a couple thousand dollars lying around to fix my car. I’m pissed. I just had something fixed in my car in October. I just had new brake pads put in in July. It’s not even that old and it doesn’t even have 100,000 miles on it yet. I’ve heard from plenty of other people with my same make and model that they don’t have major issues often and theirs last nicely. Why is it never “Oh, a screw is missing”? Even a leak (actually there is a leak in my car’s transmission anyway) would be preferable to being raped out of thousands of dollars. Great, so I’m putting half of what my car initially cost back into it. Great!

I’m also still trying to move forward with college applications. I just logged onto my school’s website to request a transcript. Nope, you can’t do that, you have a hold on your account because your student loan didn’t even cover all of your tuition! Great! Enjoy paying that with the zero dollars you have! I don’t receive adequate loans because my parents make too much money (and they also will not pay for any of my education).

I just got a call from the transmission shop. $2700 plus tax.

Where are drugs when you need them?? I’m kidding. But not really.

– Z

It’s All In The Mind

“You think you have a mental illness?”
One of my relatives asked me this today. It was an innocently-posed question, but it got me thinking. Yes, unfortunately, I have mental illnesses, and as I was sitting there with her this afternoon as she told me all about this job opening with her company (which does sound nice, by the way), I could feel how my shoulders were slouched and my spine wasn’t straight. I could feel the drag in my face. It’s like depression literally brings me down. It’s hard for me to be excited or even fake enthusiasm about anything these days. That’s mental illness.

Earlier today in my creative non-fiction class, my professor was telling us we should spend some time exploring what causes our anxiety, our emotional pain. I’m sure for some people the answer is much more complicated, i.e. abuse, rough childhoods, deaths of friends and relatives, etc., and maybe this is a whiny, selfish thought of me to have, but I often have it regardless: I wish my emotional pain came from something other than my own brain.

I’m full of anxiety and panic purely because of how my brain is wired. I’m depressed because of a chemical imbalance. No, my life has not been perfect, but I never suffered physical or sexual abuse, and I’m grateful for that, but because I had such a decent life growing up I often feel overlooked and/or guilty for telling people about my mental health issues. To some people, it’s truly not real unless you’ve experienced some sort of trauma, but that’s simply not true.

I’ve been thinking about that creative non-fiction class a lot lately. It’s basically the middle of the semester and I’m still not comfortable disclosing anything with anyone. Someone who gave me some feedback on my “personal essay” said she felt as though I shouldn’t make excuses for my feelings – which I agree with, but I often feel like my feelings are not valid because I haven’t experienced tragedy. I am simply a psychologically fucked up person for reasons only science can figure out. I don’t feel like I can “compare” with my peers – they all have real problems. I’m just someone who needs to pop pills because of genetics and brain chemistry, not because I suffered anything in life.

Long story short, I’m never going to write a memoir anyway, because my life has just been too damn boring, and no one is interested in hearing about a white suburban kid with a psychiatric disorder.

– Z