[This entry is very melodramatic. Melodrama is, unfortunately, the only tone I can achieve right now.]
It’s 11:59 on a Friday night. I’m sitting at my kitchen table messing around on the internet and listening to podcasts, eating peanut butter out of the jar, wearing the pajamas that I never changed out of this morning. I haven’t left my apartment since Tuesday. I turned my phone off at 4 this afternoon in order to avoid an unlikely but possible call from someone asking me to hang out tonight. I am behind on my rent and all of my bills. My bank account is almost empty. I have no idea what to do next, on any given day and in my life in general. I feel lost all the time, disconnected from life, and unsure of how to feel like I’m actually here instead of just floating by. Lately I find myself wishing that I was 18 again, and that I could redo the time from my high school graduation until now, and not fuck it up and waste it all. That is a very pathetic thought, very middle-age-crisis-ish. Never mind that I’m only 25.
I moved to Chicago a few months ago. Prior to moving I was doing pretty good, for me. I had a waitressing job that I really liked, I had money and my debt was mostly under control. I had great friends and I was having some of the most consistent fun that I’d had in a long time. I was finally starting to shake off the depression and social anxiety that had marked most of the last seven years. I was pretty happy. My move to Chicago had been planned about five months earlier, before I started to feel happy. I was feeling pretty shitty and I thought a change of scenery would be good. When my moving date came I decided to still go for it, even though it was really hard to leave everyone behind when things were finally starting to get really good.
I honestly believed that my move would somehow bring about a magical change. Unlike my other moves, which I had squandered by dragging my old hangups and bad habits with me, this one would be special. I had my newfound happiness-attaining abilities, a bolstered self-esteem, and a little money saved up. I was excited. I was going to leave behind all that sadness and anxiety, ditch my bad habits, and redeem myself.
Unfortunately, in the four months that I’ve been here, that hasn’t happened. Part of me wants to run away, move again, and this time really make the effort and change. But quitting and moving again just because I screwed up the beginning isn’t very smart. What if I just start doing that over and over? Besides, I like Chicago and I want to get to know it better before I leave.
So I need to make some big changes here. It is tempting to try to do everything at once, but all of my huge total life makeover plans seem to fail almost immediately. So instead I am going to focus intensely on the most important things that I need to do right now to get things on track, achieve a couple of those things, and then move on to a couple more. At first these won’t be very sexy goals – fixing my money situation and getting into therapy are the first two that I’m going to tackle – but once my life is less fucked up then I can have cool and interesting goals about traveling and learning and exploring. Woot.