There’s a certain irony in the difference between who I was and where I thought I was in my life now and back when this school semester started. Just a couple of months ago, I had this awesome job learning to cook professionally. I was starting school, which was a point of ambition and stress for me for a long time. I was living with my (now ex-) girlfriend in Atlanta in a quaint little duplex apartment with a dog. I was content and growing. I was in love.
Between then and now, I lost my girlfriend, what I considered my home, my job, and felt no sense of urgency towards school anymore. I don’t get to see my ex’s sweet little dog anymore. I had anxiety all day, everyday, towards everything. It’s hard to see exactly why the break-up fucked me up so completely. We had only been together for a year and some months; Hardly that long of a relationship. It broke me down, though, and made me feel like my stomach was made out of lead or something; As though all the hurt was physically weighing me down. The weight eventually turned into just feeling really dull or really anxious. I had even started really considering if I had emotional problems that I needed to address. I was considering therapy for the first time in my life. I don’t think about therapy anymore, but I can’t help but be reminded of a study I read for my Psychology class that was basically about drinking to cope, and how much I really understand that concept now, though I think on a much more depressing level. It’s borderline alcoholism and, although I don’t binge or anything excessive, there is still a craving every so often, and a knowledge that with a few drinks in me, I’ll be happier and more honest than without it. Just typing that out and the anxiety it brings makes me feel like I need to drink to cope with drinking to cope.
What I particularly find so fucking obnoxious about this change is that the first couple of essays I wrote in this English class were about how great everything in my life was going for me, and that it was all due to my hard work, determination, and support from this girl. Of course, she would be the one to go and have an identity crisis(and by identity crisis, I mean stumbled upon someone else who was, apparently, much more interesting than I) and begin the downword spiral (downword spiral doesn’t even begin to describe, perhaps plummet?..no..FUCKING DIVE BOMB) from the happily-committed, future-building, young man that I was, into a jobless, incredibly lonely, couch-surfer.
It could be worse, I suppose. I stay at my parents house mostly, though I can stay with my bandmates whenever I want, and I spend a lot of nights with a girl I’ve been talking to recently, though there’s no foreseeable future with said girl considering she just came out of a 5-year relationship in one of the worst ways possible and is probably just as, if not more, emotionally-compromised as I am. I just got a new job and there are no complaints there. I’m trying to work hard on getting back up on my school work, but I definitely left a lot to be done. Hence the title of this post, I’m working hard on readjustment. Perhaps, not all of my work ethic and spirit has left me since those first couple of essays from what seems so long ago, but it’s hard. Trying to feel like a happy, hard-working, confident person again is really fucking hard.
I feel silly for putting this all up here now, especially because this post is pretty long-winded and I would be surprised if any of you actually take the time to read it. On the other-hand, I’ve seen some personal posts get thrown up here, so I guess I can consider this my personal rant. My one incredibly personal, moderately depressing, and entirely self-pitying blog post.