*insert witty quip about how nobody reads this blog anyway so why say “y’all” here*
Anyway, I figured I should update this blog because it’s been a while, although I’m pretty sure the only purpose this blog will serve will be giving me reading material once I end up in the nursing home.
Not much has really happened, except it seems that summer is finally here. Two weeks ago, my dad had the snowblower out. Now, it’s like 75 degrees and plants outside are finally turning green. Lol what is weather
As far as the work situation goes, nothing much has changed. Except, they just hired a few new people, so for the last month, I’ve only been working like, Saturday and Sunday, then having Monday through Thursday off, then working Fri-Sat-Sun and then having Monday through Friday off. Next week it finally goes back to somewhat normal, but honestly, I still need hours.
As usual the parental units are harping on me that I need another job or more hours, and honestly. I know it’s as frustrating for them as it is for me (or even moreso), but constantly harping on me isn’t going to make a job just appear.
I’m sure this is gonna make me sound like a broken record, but I just feel like my folks don’t really understand, despite having gone through their share of hardships in life.
I know I’ve got social anxiety, and that’s no walk in the park. It’s uncomfortable as fuck. Even though my logical mind knows that none of the old people in the library give two fucks about me, it still feels like they’re all staring at me and that they talk about me and laugh at me once I leave. It’s stupid, because I know they’re not doing it, but that doesn’t stop me from looking around nervously and sweating like a sinner in church.
That’s not a problem I feel is understood by my parents. As I’ve said many times before, they’re of the mindset that you have to make up your mind to do something, and do it, as if it were easy.
Part of me understands where they’re coming from; after all, if you’ve got a phobia, you can’t just shut yourself away your whole life and avoid said phobia completely. You have to gradually get over the fear, or at the very least learn to manage it. On the other hand, if it was as easy as making up one’s mind to do something and then doing it, nobody would ever have any problems, ever.
I guess it’s just weird because I’ve noticed my social anxiety problems gradually getting better, so I guess it’s just harder to deal with when I have a bad social anxiety day.
And the depression. Nine times out of ten, I only have any problems with it at all during what I like to call Hell Week (aka PMS). And even though I know it’ll go away within a few days, I will have a day or two each month where I have the same crippling depression that I used to have pretty much all the time just a few years ago. Just today I struggled with some of it. I didn’t even want to do things that I enjoy doing today, let alone doing anything productive. This happens more than I’d like.
And that gets written off as laziness. I admit, I am lazier than most people, but half the time it’s because I can’t seem to muster up any energy, or motivation. See, even now, I like saying I only have problems with depression during Hell Week, but really, it is present in everyday life, it’s just usually more subtle.
Like, why try at work when you know nobody gives a shit? Why do anything around the house to help out your mother, when you know she’s just going to ignore anything you did and instead bitch about all the chores that didn’t get done? Why try looking for a job? You’re just going to waste your time putting in dozen of applications and then never even get a call back.
This is no way to life one’s life, and yet I don’t know what to do, so I do nothing.
Also, I don’t want to alarm anyone because I would never even consider taking my own life, but more and more I seem to ask myself the question “What’s the point? Nothing ever works out and nobody cares, so why are you even here?”
So I think that’s the depression talking. I used to think it had pretty much gone away, but as I said before, it’s not gone, it’s just more subtle than it was before. I never want to do even things I used to love doing before. I hardly ever go to the beach anymore, I never take pictures, I almost never draw great things like I used to, I hardly ever read anymore… it’s like more and more I just get into these funks where I don’t feel like doing anything except sitting in bed, waiting for it to be night time.
I’m trying to believe things can get better but it’s just so hard sometimes.