(no subject)
I just got back from counseling. I spent most of the time crying. We discussed Matt moving out and what happens next. Not entirely sure when that's going to be. By August though. He's going to move to Seatle. I can't afford to live by myself. I can't imagine anyone who would want to live with me. Roommate wise. I am a horrible house keeper. I have no ambition to clean. Well, I have trouble motivating myself to do anything, but especially cleaning. Who would want to deal with that. Although, probably with a roommate, I would confine the mess to my room. It's an option. Of course I could work two jobs. Only have the one right now. But I don't think I have the energy for two jobs. And I've met servers who work days at one restaurant, nights at another, and that's fine, but the only thing they ever do with their lives is go out drinking. And I really don't want that life style. The last option, of course, is to move in with my parents. What I really want is to be able to live in a city large enough that I didn't have to have a car, but once again, where would I go? And where would I find a roommate? I could go to Philly. Kris and Joey are dying for me to move there. They want to put me on a big mac diet. But Kris is engaged, and Joey has a serious boyfriend, who she's going to move in with eventually. And neither of them is really available as a roommate. I'm just so stressed out about life. I feel like I try so hard to not spend money friviously, and yet, I'm still getting nowhere. It seems the only options available to me are to work all the time and afford to be by myself, or to work one job and be stuck in a place where I don't have many friends. And dear lord, moving back in with my parents, who are going to want to know what I'm doing and when I'll be back. And all that stuff.
Well, I've got a month and a half at the very least to figure that one out. My therapist asked me today if I was sleeping. I told him I had some insomnia last week. Then he asked if I was eating. Eh. I had two and a half chicken tenders yesterday. Today I ate a slim jim and some cookies. Eating feels like too much work.
Life is so goddamn frustrating right now. It makes me want to cut off all my hair again. Bizarre sentiment.
The problem with my depression is the lack of motivation keeps me from doing things, and then because I don't do anything, I start feeling bad about that stuff. Feel bad about my horrible housekeeping. Feel bad that I'm not a better financial manager. Feel bad that I'm not writing more. Feel bad that I'm not acting on a community level at the very least. Feel bad that I don't return phone calls. Feel bad that I'm not emailing all my friends. Feel bad that I'm not trying harder.
I have spurts when I do try. But then my motivation slowly erodes. And I go right back into the depression cycle. And I feel like a hamster in a wheel, just running circles. Getting nowhere. Nothing in my life is progressing. I feel like a maudlin character.
And then for the things I do actually do, I feel incompentent. Driving--I feel like I make dumb, stupid mistakes. Not accidents, just...dumb things. At work, I'm a trainer. Which implies some faith in my ability, but then there's the little voice in my head telling me that they didn't have that many options to choose from anyway. If I wasn't at the new store with new staff, they wouldn't consider me. And then there are the days I feel like I'm just a mediocre server. The days when I get so busy, with merely a four table section, that I don't get in to run food as much as I should. Or when I'm feeling kind of lazy, so I don't help out as much as I could.
And then there are the days when I feel like I'm never going to "make it" as a writer, partly because maybe I'm not that good, and partly because I certainly don't have the drive or persistence that would be necessary.
And what kind of makes all of this worse, is I have people telling me that I am good, and I am special, and they love me. And I believe it at the time. But they don't understand how convincing the little voices in my head telling me that I'm not are. And I don't understand where the voices are coming from. I don't understand why I'm so critical of myself. I don't understand why living, and not just surviving, has to be so hard.
Everything about my life right now, makes me feel bad. And the worst part is, I know it's really me. I know these things intellectually, but not emotionally.
Well, I've got a month and a half at the very least to figure that one out. My therapist asked me today if I was sleeping. I told him I had some insomnia last week. Then he asked if I was eating. Eh. I had two and a half chicken tenders yesterday. Today I ate a slim jim and some cookies. Eating feels like too much work.
Life is so goddamn frustrating right now. It makes me want to cut off all my hair again. Bizarre sentiment.
The problem with my depression is the lack of motivation keeps me from doing things, and then because I don't do anything, I start feeling bad about that stuff. Feel bad about my horrible housekeeping. Feel bad that I'm not a better financial manager. Feel bad that I'm not writing more. Feel bad that I'm not acting on a community level at the very least. Feel bad that I don't return phone calls. Feel bad that I'm not emailing all my friends. Feel bad that I'm not trying harder.
I have spurts when I do try. But then my motivation slowly erodes. And I go right back into the depression cycle. And I feel like a hamster in a wheel, just running circles. Getting nowhere. Nothing in my life is progressing. I feel like a maudlin character.
And then for the things I do actually do, I feel incompentent. Driving--I feel like I make dumb, stupid mistakes. Not accidents, just...dumb things. At work, I'm a trainer. Which implies some faith in my ability, but then there's the little voice in my head telling me that they didn't have that many options to choose from anyway. If I wasn't at the new store with new staff, they wouldn't consider me. And then there are the days I feel like I'm just a mediocre server. The days when I get so busy, with merely a four table section, that I don't get in to run food as much as I should. Or when I'm feeling kind of lazy, so I don't help out as much as I could.
And then there are the days when I feel like I'm never going to "make it" as a writer, partly because maybe I'm not that good, and partly because I certainly don't have the drive or persistence that would be necessary.
And what kind of makes all of this worse, is I have people telling me that I am good, and I am special, and they love me. And I believe it at the time. But they don't understand how convincing the little voices in my head telling me that I'm not are. And I don't understand where the voices are coming from. I don't understand why I'm so critical of myself. I don't understand why living, and not just surviving, has to be so hard.
Everything about my life right now, makes me feel bad. And the worst part is, I know it's really me. I know these things intellectually, but not emotionally.