I lead an exhausting existence.
Between the job search; the existing job; daily duties; staying sober; panic attacks at the grocery store; co-occurring depression and anxiety; running and trying to stay fit-ish; and watching this country burn down around me, it is no wonder I am so mentally and emotionally spent. I have absolutely no idea what the short-term solution is (other than getting as far away from Northern Hellville as possible).
I haven’t felt like writing lately and haven’t blogged in over a month. Cue the guilt and panic. When I started this blog, I had such grandiose plans to write every week and plan out posts and get the blog design/layout where I wanted it. Well, I haven’t felt like doing much of anything, let alone spending time on the blog. And I know when I don’t feel like writing is when I need to do it the most. I simply haven’t been able to motivate myself to write about my misery. It feels like complaining, which I suppose it is, but it is also incredibly therapeutic to get it all out there. And in doing so, maybe I will reach someone who can relate to this perpetual fatigue. I am so tired of the daily grind and the 24/7 noise pollution. The inbox sits, sad and empty, day after day, while I wait to hear back about job applications. I just want to scream and throw my laptop at the absurdity of it all. Money, this cruel commodity, rules our lives: more so now than ever, thanks to inflation. The word alone makes me cringe and furl my brow, she who is in need of another Botox injection from all the frowning and jaw-tightening.
I have half-finished cover letters galore; I never seem to be adequately caught up on laundry or to-do lists; and I have just about abandoned any hope of opening my mobile bakery anytime soon. This summer has not been too kind – and the heat and humidity (coupled with the bikers out for blood and the perpetual droning of the commercial lawn machinery) makes me think this MIGHT be actual hell. The dating drama has been ever present, yet I keep at it, as I am bound and determined not to be alone forever.
I truly want to be happier about my life. There is so much for which to be grateful, make no mistake. I feel like the luckiest person alive sometimes when I think about where I was a little over 22 months ago, compared to where I am now. In fact, I am so lucky to BE alive. I should be over the moon that I am coming up on TWO YEARS OF SOBRIETY. That is by far one of my greatest accomplishments and I should be shouting it from the rooftops every single day. But this existence just isn’t quite what I pictured for myself (then again, neither was becoming very, very addicted to alcohol…) I want a life that is quiet and devoid of disturbing and incessant noise pollution. A life where I can focus on writing; one that is creative and filled with fresh flowers and nature and enjoying my daily runs, rather than literally running away from people and bikers and three lawn mowers going at once. One that is gratifying, fulfilling, and smells like lemon poppy seed muffins on a Sunday morning. A life where I don’t dread the daily drudgery, with each week the same as the last. And one where I am able to carry out my passions and make a difference, ideally one where I can help people overcome their addictions, too. Instead, I am treading water – and running in pea soup.
It’s as though the past two years have just now caught up to me: all the efforts to try to get sober and then finally succeeding; then meeting my ex and subsequently getting left behind a year later as he went on to greener pastures; then attempting to deal with (and heal from) the breakup. Not to mention the wide array of health issues I had – and somehow managed to continue running through. I don’t know if I’ve felt much worse, in my current (sober) life, than when I had the kidney infection in December 2021 and was still picking up the pieces of my heart off the floor after Ben* smashed it to smithereens. It’s a lot for one person to go through, on their own, while still learning how to navigate life without the bottle. I’m often reminded of why I drank, particularly when the loneliness creeps in. Loneliness is probably the heartbreak of my life, romantic losses aside. I ask “why, why, why” all the time.
I’m insanely jealous of people who have someone to come home to, someone to help them out with errands, or take care of them when they’re sick. And people who live near their families or a relative? Oh, I am every shade of green with envy. I’m not an overly emotional person by any means but last Friday, when I was running a fever, I just sat in bed and cried about how unfair it is that I don’t have anyone to bring me tea or a cold washcloth. I’m thankful my family is alive and healthy but the fact that we have had to live an ocean apart for my entire adult life is unbelievably unfair. And the fact that no guy has ever stuck around? Yes, that’s really unfair, too. I don’t know if I believe that I will ever meet someone who won’t leave me.
The last guy I dated, Christian* aka “Bad Egg”, really threw me for a loop. For starters, I never should have believed him when he told me he was going to make this summer “bearable” for me. Fat chance of that. But things were going so well, I thought, and then it all changed in the span of 15 minutes. After a weekend trip with one of my girlfriends, I reached out to see if everything was okay, given that I hadn’t heard from him since the previous Thursday. Christian informed me that he expected ME to contact him when it was convenient to talk, citing my moods and misery as a deterrent for not texting me first. “I don’t think that’s how it works”, was the first thing I thought. I’ve been in enough one-sided relationships to know that’s very unhealthy and I don’t want that ever again. I love myself too much now. We didn’t get sober and realize our self-worth for nothing. I also saw right through his excuses: if you are truly interested in someone, you’re going to contact them to see how they’re doing. What it boiled down to was he didn’t care how I was doing. And that’s fine – but be man enough to tell me that.
Then, when he threw “Northern Happyville” in my face (friendly reminder: it’s Northern Hellville), I lost it. The last thing I needed was his patronizing sarcasm. After everything we talked about over the course of the previous two months, I was expecting more empathy from him and a little understanding about my current situation. Instead he rubbed my nose in the fact that he LOVES it here, while I am struggling and suffering in comparison. It’s really easy for someone with an Apple screen in every room of their house to tell you just how “great” life is. But for someone who has a full-blown panic attack every time they buy groceries, no, life is not that easy or great right now. However, I will say I have matured a lot more than I give myself credit for, because aside from blogging about it, I just let it go. His loss. Onwards and upwards.
I like to end my posts on somewhat of a positive note but I really am digging deep for this one. Something I’ve loved my whole life and found solace in is quotes, especially having a quote for every possible set of circumstances. I save every quote I come across that inspires me. And the one that I think so aptly fits this current situation is the following. I hope it resonates with you, too.
“When you get into a tight place, and everything goes against you till it seems as though you could not hang on a minute longer, never give up then, for that is just the place and time that the tide will turn.” – Harriet Beecher Stowe
*names have been changed