I've been struggling recently through both personal and familial problems. The last couple of weeks have been some of the hardest weeks I've ever experienced in my life. And I don't really know why.
Normally, I get stressed and unstressed pretty randomly. Things stress me out, and I'm able to ignore them or get over them fairly easily. Some things stay with me and re-stress me time and time again, but it's always in waves of worry. One day, I'm freaking out, the next, I don't even know why I was so upset before. I've never really had much trouble finding happiness and choosing to be happy and enjoy life even when things are tough.
But in these last couple of weeks, even just being happy has felt like a struggle. And it's a struggle that's gone on longer than any struggle of this sort usually does for me. And it quite frankly scares me.
I feel like I'm in a box...a tiny, closed box with no holes for air or light. And I don't have any idea how to get out of this box nor how I got inside it in the first place.
Cramped inside this box, I don't get to escape the outside world. Instead, I'm forced directly into it. People are mad at me. I'm mad at other people. I have things to do. I have to be responsible. I have to stop procrastinating and wasting time. I have to put aside what I want to do things that I NEED to do.
But I can't help thinking...do I really need to do these things?? Will the world come tumbling down if I don't turn in my paper for class?? Will anyone die if I don't do well on my test next week?? Will my life be irreparably ruined if I don't do the things I need to do??
And the only answer I can come up with is...no. Everything will still be fine. The world will spin, life will go on, and I will be exactly the same as I was before.
So why do I keep doing it??
I don't honestly know. What I do know is that I can't stop doing it, just as I can't stop trying to stop doing it. I couldn't drop out of college even if I wanted to, and I honestly don't. I just wouldn't be able to force myself to do it. It's not something I could stand to do. But at the same time, I can barely stand to keep up with it all. I feel like the box is closing in. Maybe it's always been there and I've just been able to ignore it up until now. But now that I know it's there, I can't lose sight of it. I'm constantly aware of the walls, of the responsibilities pressing in on me, forcing me to go places, write things, read things, think things. And I just. want. out.
Even the things I normally enjoy don't make me as happy as before. I can barely read books at all. I can still feel the fervor, the need to know what happens next, but I don't feel actually excited about it.
Katelyn says this is depression. I wouldn't know, since never in my life can I remember feeling depressed. "Depression" to me has always been a fleeting emotion, never something that lasts. I've never been able to understand people who have depression. But this, whatever it is that I feel, keeps coming back. I can't stop seeing the box.
What I want more than absolutely anything right now is to not have ANYTHING to do. I don't want to have books to read, I don't want to have TV shows or movies to watch, I won't want classes to attend, food to eat, people to talk to, parties to attend, places to visit, sights to see, stories to write, ANYTHING. I want to wake up in the morning and know that there is absolutely nothing to do that day. I want sleep to be the absolute most worthwhile thing I can do with my time. I don't want other people to expect anything of me. I don't want people to want me around. I don't want them to talk to me. I want the world to leave me alone and let me sleep. The fact that this will never happen makes me want to cry.
Some days are okay. Some days, I can manage to laugh and feel happy and excited. I think those moments are even sweeter than normal, because I know that the next day might (and probably will) be a bad one. Most of the good days still have their bad moments. Right now is a bad moment in a fairly good day. Late at night is when it gets the worst. I go to bed almost every night listening to Alice in Wonderland so that I don't have to think. So that I can stop feeling so hyper aware of everything around me. Especially the box.
Katelyn says this will pass, and I have no doubt that it will. I'm not hopeless or anything. I know for a fact that I'll feel better at some point. The problem is that I don't know when. I don't know if I'll have to deal with this for hours, days, weeks, or months. God forbid, years. It's such a struggle to do the things I'm supposed to do. It feels like wading through mud - or sometimes drying concrete. I'm trying so hard to make it to winter break in one piece, and I don't know what I'll do if this doesn't stop before spring semester starts. Because I don't really think I can handle a whole semester of this.
Rachel likes to describe her life in colors, and I can understand that. I can fathom it into colors. Words are much harder. Rachel describes things as grey sometimes, and I see what she means. I've been having more grey days than ever before. And not a pretty, comforting grey. More like a splotchy, dark, misty grey that blurs and obscures everything and makes it difficult to see clearly.
Sometimes there are other colors too. They are almost all variations on the dark grey, though. Yellow, but not as bright as it should be. Blue and purple, but light blue and lavender that's tinged with grey. I haven't had any red days. I think those would have to be very bad indeed. A red day doesn't strike me as a good day. I've never had one, but that's what I would have to guess. I haven't even had orange.
Blue and green days are the best, though purple ones are sometimes the most meaningful. Purple or dark, deep blue, like the night sky, framed by lighter colors. Nights used to feel so full of potential, but now I just see them as the time when I have to do things instead of sleep. Pretty much all times have become times when I have to do things instead of sleep. I used to not get enough sleep because I enjoyed being awake too much. I didn't want to miss anything. Now I just want to wade through or give up so that I can get to sleep. Sleep is the goal, not the obstacle. It strikes me as a fair goal, honestly. A pretty good one, if I had to really judge. It's not a life goal, obviously, but it's a decent thing to aim for daily. That's how I get through things sometimes. Especially homework. It's how I get through as much homework as I can stand. I tell myself that if I can just finish this part of the novel, I get to sleep. If I can just write a page response to this story, I can sleep. If I can just think through this last paragraph, I can sleep.
But sleep isn't very fulfilling, as far as goals go. There's no sense of accomplishment or excitement when sleep is your goal. You can't brag about it either. "I got to sleep last night!" is only an accomplishment for insomniacs, and even then, I'm not sure how many people would pat you on the back for it. In fact, bragging about getting to sleep will likely get you punched in the caffeinated, sleep-deprived world of college.
So now I have to stop writing this blog post and instead do the homework I've been neglecting for the past several hours (actually, the past several days, if I'm being honest). I don't want to do it. In fact, I feel a small knot of impatience and jitteryness in the pit of my stomach, begging me to do anything but my homework. But I have to do it. That tiny voice in the back of my head that makes most of the executive decisions is forcing me to do it. No matter how painful it is.
So now I'll stop ranting. My goal with this post was to figure out how I'm feeling. I don't think I did. But I feel very slightly better now, I think, though maybe that's just the Ramen I ate. I feel a little less like crying, at least, and that's something. Baby steps, as Bob would say.
Good night. Sleep is on the horizon.
Victoria
