I'm alive.
No, seriously. I'm alive. What the hell has happened over the past two months?
Okay, so yeah, I'm still at Starbucks. But these last two-or-so months have been easily some of my darkest days. And I have no idea why.
I don't know what happened, but I guess it was seeing everyone go to school and me being "done" that took some of the wind out of my sails. It suddenly felt hard to do everything. I mean, I could get up and go to work and do a good job. But the communication wasn't really me. It was Starbucks-style communication. How are you? I'll get your latte. That sort of stuff. I didn't have to think about that kind of communication.
But for real, person-to-person communication? I found it harder and harder to talk to people. People texted asking where I was, and if I was OK. And I read them, but... I didn't reply. I don't know why I didn't. Talking to people was legitimately hard. I got anxious because I hadn't texted or communicated in so long that I thought people would be mad. So I put it off even more.
One day, I had a bad - bad - day. I don't think I smiled all day. I worked in near silence. I didn't want to have anything to do with anybody. Dave texted me, wondering where I had gotten to. And it was easily one of the most vulnerable moments I've ever had.
Do you know how hard it is to admit you may have an issue? Holy Christ. I was literally shaking as I was texting him. Because it's VERY hard to start saying you feel depressed. You're afraid of people overreacting. Oh, you're just having a bad day, they'd say. Voices in my head. Unreal conversations with myself. Cheer up, you're just tired. People have it worse than you.
I texted another friend of mine in Halifax, who immediately gave me some kind words which made me pretty much burst into tears somewhere along Spadina. Might I add, I was walking furiously, which is what I do when I'm super stressed out.
Then I called my doctor.
What I was feeling wasn't right, but I knew that if I left it one moment longer, I would literally never tell anyone that I needed help. I left the nurse a message saying I needed to see him. And wouldn't you know it. The bastard STILL hasn't called back. Remind me to switch doctors.
I got home, and could barely hold it in. Good thing Dad is the level-headed one of the family. It wasn't pretty. I basically relegated myself to the corner of the kitchen because I didn't want to see anyone. Sat alone for the rest of the night. Cried myself to sleep that night wondering what the hell was wrong with me.
It felt like a dark cloud was over me 24/7. I had difficulty understanding people. People pointed out that I looked "sad". There were a few days where I basically just stayed home, because it was easier than going out and doing stuff. And the days where I went out and interacted with people, it was, for the record, completely fake. Sir, your change? Oh, right. Silly me.
One of my bigger "turning points" has been acknowledging this. And acknowledging that people do, in fact, live with that terrible cloud for years before they do anything about it. I'm lucky that 2 months is pretty short. But still. Depression is fucking scary.
Now, it's a little easier to talk to people. I'm starting to come around. I have my days where it feels a little pointless. Like... why? Why bother? Why bother with anything? Who cares about me? Friendship feels so fake sometimes.
But what's especially weird for me is that every single person I've spoken to about this has been immediately supportive and asked what was the matter. Those unreal conversations never happened. It's something like cognitive dissonance. Perhaps I underestimate people.
So yeah. That's where I am right now. I'm still trying to keep my head above water. I haven't posted anything on social media for days. Wondering how I can start "coming back".
But at least I'm alive.
