Sitting, Waiting, Wishing

This constant state of ‘what even’ has been my favourite chore of 2020 so far! 

I feel like you have been my therapist more than my readers because ah shit, here we go again! Settle down, and prepare yourselves for another rant session with your favourite pessimist. 

When all of this first started, I remember being constantly anxious and low since I couldn’t go out and about whenever I wanted to. I’d then talked about how social media made me anxious, yet I didn’t want to step away from it. But I finally concluded by saying that writing helps, and it does. So what am I trying to get at?

Chasing Pavements

As we continue to live in this lockdown, things seemed fine. Until my emotions decided to replicate a ginormous rollercoaster with numerous turns, and none of it makes sense.   

Like I’ve mentioned countless times, the lockdown was hard on me. Apart from not being able to handle the privilege of a comfortable quarantine, my mental health decided to go down this rabbit hole of pain and nostalgia. As the days went by, it got harder to sleep every night and leave my bed every morning. Days always seemed to drag along, and even then, all I wanted to do was stay in bed, pouting away the “pain”. 

While I do tend to get anxious now and then, this hasn’t been the first time I’ve had to tackle this situation. It has been picking up relentlessly during the lockdown though, and while meditation seems to help according to someone from my past, I’ve found that writing has been the most therapeutic way of handling it. 

But Simone, why are you ranting about anxiety, meditation, or even the lockdown? Well, the whole point of this mini-rant was to get through another anxiety attack. But for some reason, even if it does go away for a bit, it always finds its way back to me. Now, if you ask me what’s causing this? I can tell you right now that I don’t know, all I know is that I’m anxious and that’s that. 

Let’s try ranting some more, shall we? As I previously mentioned, I’ve had a similar experience before. This happened to me last year, almost around the same time, which is wild! I had a standard routine of sleeping late and waking up late. Only this time, I would work, sleep, wake up, repeat. And even though sleep was my only companion, it never stayed around for long. Now, very little sleep could’ve been a huge factor for a lot of my issues, and will continue to be my arch-nemesis. However, it was so much more than just sleep deprivation.

And I wouldn’t want to speak for everyone else, but I know that my constant motivator happened to be quitting, for my mental health. Not only did I fantasize about leaving, but I would also constantly make it known to the point where everyone took it as a joke. Which worked incredibly well for me, because when I quit, no one could say it was a surprise. It wasn’t. And yes, it was great. I was happy, I went on a mini-vacay with my closest friend, but it didn’t last that long. This was just the quiet before the storm, and I didn’t have a clue about what was about to hit me.

Every Little Thing

If you’re used to being shamed about being a troubled child, or just been called straight-up lazy; quitting your job without a plan can feel like both a problem and a solution. While I knew the actual reason I quit, to most it just seemed like I couldn’t handle the work pressure, like everyone else from this generation. 

But remember that mini-vacay I told you about? That seemed to ease my mind and anxiety a little. Oddly enough, all it took was spending the money I should’ve been saving instead. But again, the privilege of living comfortably with people who conveniently blame an individual of being dependent on you helps.

It took me a month after for my anxiety to return, but that should’ve told me enough about how terrible 2020 was going to be. And because all I have to offer is my unfiltered negativity, all I wanted to look at was all of the bad. Which wasn’t the best for my sanity?

So right when things seemed to pick up for me, the lockdown happened. And we’re back right where we started!

I Can’t Make You Love Me

I guess what I’m trying to say is, there’s nothing wrong with having emotions or even dealing with it. It’s just that despite being so vocal about good mental health, I’m ashamed of and unable to deal with my own. 

It’s always been about trying too hard to stay afloat, keeping my negativity to myself, and having people say they understand without meaning a bit of it. I’m not saying that my anxiety should give me a free pass for being an asshole, but I shouldn’t have to feel terrible for feeling the way I do as well. We always talk about how it is extremely important to feel the way we do, but sometimes, saying things for the sake of it is just not enough. 

In the process of trying to feel better, I ended up doing the one thing that only made it worse. To make up for the lack of attention and care I usually get, I worked myself to the point of a proper burnout. And even that didn’t do me any good. Not only did that make my anxiety go into override, but it also kind of did a number on my self-confidence. Not like that would take much! But I like complaining and shifting blame, so that’s what I have and will continue to do.  

This obviously wouldn’t come as a surprise, but constant anxiety gets exhausting. But because I enjoy being self-destructive, I deal with it. But sometimes, just dealing with it is at best, peculiar. However, I’ve gone back to wanting to do something just so I don’t feel like I’m not good enough. Which is rich, considering I wrote about something similar in one of my first posts since the lockdown happened. 

And in doing this, I’ve realised that it only makes me feel worse. But I’m also incredibly scared of just feeling any kind of emotion. I’m afraid of actually letting go of my inhibitions, to only have them circle back. Why is that bad? It isn’t. But this constant need of looking for euphoria has me crawling right back to melancholy. And that only has me loathe myself more than I’d like.

Things I’ll Never Say

I’ve previously talked about how writing helps. And the only reason I say this is because I’ve talked about things I wouldn’t think of addressing otherwise. Like I’ve talked about how I’m scared of just being lonely, but I’ve never told anyone how I’m feeding into that fear by isolating myself. And this was way before the pandemic even existed. 

I’m even reconsidering posting this because this is about as raw as I’d get regarding my emotions, fear, and just myself. I guess I’m just going to keep talking about how you’re allowed to be yourself, as long as your mental health doesn’t become an inconvenience around others. Again, no one else should have to deal with it, but you shouldn’t feel bad about not feeling like the best version of yourself on most days. 

I’ve consistently talked about getting help, speaking to someone, or just taking a moment for yourself. However, I never listen to my advice, because I’m scared of letting it all go. I know that’s no excuse, yet I can’t help but feel like this is just how things should be. 

And I know I want to do something about all of this, but all I’ve been doing is sitting, waiting, wishing for more. Have you enjoyed reading this unnecessary, pointless rant? Well then, you can find more of my stuff here!

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