Thursday, July 5, 2012

It hurts.

I probably won't tell Facebook about this post.

I've been having conflicting thoughts for the past day or so. Before then, this summer has been... boring. I can't say terrible, because it hasn't been. At worst, it's been discouraging. But I can't handle any of it.

Allow another digression: When my students ask me how my winter break was, or hell, even my weeklong Thanksgiving or Spring break, I reply, "Long." Too long. I get bored. I could be cleaning the house, writing a novel, weeding my garden, painting my nails, making food and freezing it for future meals... Anything, really. I hate vacations though. I just sit and wait for something to happen. I'm a very frustrating person to vacation with, I can imagine.

But in the summer, I have 3 and a half months with which I can do any of the above things and more. Instead, I have holed myself up in my room (I haven't slept upstairs in a while, but that's another very boring story, and nothing to be concerned about) and read Harry Potter twice, the Shades of Grey trilogy once, knit, crocheted, and cried a whole lot. It's almost a nightly thing.

At first, it was because no one would hire me. All the local places would tell me: "you're over-qualified." How in the fuck am I too qualified to need money?! I get that someone with a Masters degree that teaches at the university will probably leave the job at the end of the summer and then they would have to spend money to train someone new.

Then it was because of another job that I interviewed for that someone else got. It was devastating.

I cry constantly. I feel like the world would be better off without me. If it weren't for my mother and father, I'd probably have ended it a long time ago. consider me a coward, but being trapped in my own body is hell. Being trapped in my own mind is even worse than that. I stay up almost all night and then sleep all day. The night it the worst. All of the negative thoughts I have about myself come creeping in while I'm alone and take over.

Then, just the other day, a dear friend birthed a stillborn baby.

I wasn't there, I haven't seen her, and I've never even been pregnant or anything like that. But the pain of it sits with me and makes me feel like a selfish brat. Who the hell am I, sitting here, doing nothing and wishing for death, while my friend is in unimaginable pain? I hurt so bad for her. I have cried more for that child than I have in a very long time.

There's not much I can do about my depression. I've tried lots, and I'm just at a loss and very jaded. I know I am allowed to feel terrible just as much as anyone else. But my friend is out there, hurting worse than anyone ever should. I am selfish.

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