Good morning, Readers!
Well, I've been having a rough go of it.
My mental health has taken another dive, and last weekend was spent in bed, with a journal, sobbing intermittently. As is the norm for me, I was... am... feeling stuck, adrift and without direction. A rudderless boat in centre of a perfect storm. Every crashing wave tearing chunks out of my hull, leaving me defenceless against an inevitable drowning.
It's not a fun feeling. 0/10. Would not recommend.
I hate feeling this way.
Depression is cruel beast. I'm fortunate that I've been diagnosed, and so can recognise what it is when the inevitable downward spirals happen. That knowledge alone has made it easier for me to persevere through the worst of it.
Journalling also helps, actually. It takes all the inner-awful and draws it out; poison from a wound. Somehow it helps lessen the effects. There is still pain, but I'm less at risk of dying from it.
In my over three hours of sobbing and journalling, I decided that I needed to make some changes to my life. I'm not happy where I am at all. This life isn't a good fit for me.
Don't get me wrong, I am actually intensely grateful for all that I have. I have a roof over my head, and good friends, and a good job that pays pretty well... compared to my last job, at least. But I'm still, in the depths of my heart, dissatisfied.
I quite like my job. I like my coworkers. I can do the tasks I'm assigned, and do them well. I feel useful and valued and productive. But this still isn't the job for me. If I were to win the lotto, I would be out of here so fast... Okay, maybe not that fast. I'd have to spend some time reorganising my life, so I'd probably work the rest of the year, but then... then I'd be gone. But I'd be back on occasion to have lunch with some of my coworkers, because they're generally great.
There are so many things I want to do with my life that cannot be done because I spend 40 hours a week doing tasks for other people.
However, some people manage to do it, and make a living from it.
I want to learn how to do that. I want to learn how to do the things I want to do, and receive a decent living from it. I don't want to be famous, by any stretch. I don't need to be filthy rich. I just want enough to live well, for myself. I want to spend my days working on the things I love, not just doing the things I must in order to eat and sleep under a roof.
I've kinda already started. I have three loves that I want to spend more of my time on. I'm trying to make that happen. These are: writing, art, gaming.
I'm slowly creating a universe for myself where I can do all these things. Hopefully, if I work at it enough, and if luck is very much on my side (*weeps in perpetually unlucky*), I make be able to pull it off. I'll go through each of these, and what I'm doing about it in separate blog posts.
For now, though, I just have to focus on continuing to breathe. I just have to get through this bad time. I will. I always do.
Ciao!
My mental health has taken another dive, and last weekend was spent in bed, with a journal, sobbing intermittently. As is the norm for me, I was... am... feeling stuck, adrift and without direction. A rudderless boat in centre of a perfect storm. Every crashing wave tearing chunks out of my hull, leaving me defenceless against an inevitable drowning.
It's not a fun feeling. 0/10. Would not recommend.
I hate feeling this way.
Depression is cruel beast. I'm fortunate that I've been diagnosed, and so can recognise what it is when the inevitable downward spirals happen. That knowledge alone has made it easier for me to persevere through the worst of it.
Journalling also helps, actually. It takes all the inner-awful and draws it out; poison from a wound. Somehow it helps lessen the effects. There is still pain, but I'm less at risk of dying from it.
In my over three hours of sobbing and journalling, I decided that I needed to make some changes to my life. I'm not happy where I am at all. This life isn't a good fit for me.
Don't get me wrong, I am actually intensely grateful for all that I have. I have a roof over my head, and good friends, and a good job that pays pretty well... compared to my last job, at least. But I'm still, in the depths of my heart, dissatisfied.
I quite like my job. I like my coworkers. I can do the tasks I'm assigned, and do them well. I feel useful and valued and productive. But this still isn't the job for me. If I were to win the lotto, I would be out of here so fast... Okay, maybe not that fast. I'd have to spend some time reorganising my life, so I'd probably work the rest of the year, but then... then I'd be gone. But I'd be back on occasion to have lunch with some of my coworkers, because they're generally great.
There are so many things I want to do with my life that cannot be done because I spend 40 hours a week doing tasks for other people.
However, some people manage to do it, and make a living from it.
I want to learn how to do that. I want to learn how to do the things I want to do, and receive a decent living from it. I don't want to be famous, by any stretch. I don't need to be filthy rich. I just want enough to live well, for myself. I want to spend my days working on the things I love, not just doing the things I must in order to eat and sleep under a roof.
I've kinda already started. I have three loves that I want to spend more of my time on. I'm trying to make that happen. These are: writing, art, gaming.
I'm slowly creating a universe for myself where I can do all these things. Hopefully, if I work at it enough, and if luck is very much on my side (*weeps in perpetually unlucky*), I make be able to pull it off. I'll go through each of these, and what I'm doing about it in separate blog posts.
For now, though, I just have to focus on continuing to breathe. I just have to get through this bad time. I will. I always do.
Ciao!
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