And, just like that, the depression has crept up on me and attached itself like a monkey to my back. It started with a series of small anxiety attacks over the past week or so — manageable. Then, it worked up over the past few days to constant anxiety in the pit of my stomach, small unstoppable squirts of tears and then the shocking one-two punch of doubled-over, overwhelming grief. I’m typing these words with tears running down my face and writing these words is the only thing stopping me from losing my shit completely. I’ve been sobbing on and off for several days. Everything is setting me off. My job stress has become overwhelming. I feel like I’m being asked to do unreasonable amounts of work, work resulting from the fuckups of other people. I don’t feel that my new boss is advocating for me in any way. I feel alone and confused. I’m working my ass off and it just keeps coming. And it’s because others aren’t doing their jobs correctly. Sorry, too much venting.
And even giving myself a break during the holidays — it’s still difficult. Still things to do, still so much happiness to watch on television, online, all around me. All reminders that, at the end of the day, I am alone. Listen, I don’t need a man in my life to define me or my well-being, but I do want a partner. And it is so hard not having one. Especially at this age. I just feel like I’m floating along waiting for something that’s never going to happen.
This time of year, old hurts resurface, the happiness of others is sometimes too much to bear, and the depression senses your weakness and grabs you by the neck and shakes you until you fall, limp, to the ground. I realize now that this is my life…every few months this is going to happen to me. It isn’t easy to go through alone, but I would never ask someone to have to go through it with me. So I am still figuring everything out. Living with this, this THING…I never invited it, but here it is. I guess I have to make room for it.