So, have any of you ever heard that song by Lily Allen? The one that goes, "It's five o'clock in the morning... Conversation got boring..." And so on, and so forth. Well, it's technically 3:30 in the morning, not five o' clock, and there is no one in my house except two extremely fluffy, extremely adorable, and occasionally irritating felines (in comparison with the significant other that is the focal point of that Lily Allen song), but I find those two lines from that song going through my head over and over and over again. And I am trying to decide whether this constitutes a serious problem in my life.
Perhaps I should explain.
So, for those of you who read the first couple of posts that I ever wrote on this blog, you probably know that I have been struggling with some form of depression/insomnia/I-don't-really-give-a-fuck for some time. For the past three semesters in fact (because I am still at a point in my life when I think of time passing in terms of school rather than an actual calendar). For those of you that are not aware of this, consider yourselves informed.
When this phenomenon first started occurring, it took me awhile to figure out that it was actually happening. Like many things that happen in life, it crept up on me with all the abruptness of a morning fog. In the beginning, I simply attributed it to being tired, or having an "off day." And then the day stretched into a week and the weeks stretched into a month, and then I got close enough to the end of high school that I could safely term it "senioritis." And there was always the underlying assumption that if I could pinpoint exactly what was happening in my life that was causing me to feel this way I could magically fix everything and no longer inhabit this dank, muddy, dark pit that had become my life. So I tried changing my sleeping habits and buying new alarm clocks and fitting a "fun" class in my schedule and getting out and meeting new people and writing letters and starting a blog and going on dates and talking and talking and talking about it. And with every change, every conversation, I thought to myself, "This makes sense now, I can start fixing this." And I would feel rejuvenated and filled with purpose and for a week or two I would think to myself, "I'm back on track now, I'm doing something with my life."
Productivity has become a very integral estimation of my self-worth these past couple of years. I can't decide whether this makes me sad or not...
And every time I thought that I had a handle on this and that I was over the hump, I found myself sliding back into the pit. And it became progressively worse and worse.
But I don't want this post to be about what a horrible mess my life has been for the past two or three years. Because that's not what my mind is dwelling on at 3:30 in the morning. (Really it is closer to 4:00 now, if I felt the need to be anal about it. Which I suppose I do...) No, what my mind keeps coming back to is beyond simple misery or depression (which I am still not totally convinced is the correct diagnosis of this problem). My mind is fixated on whether or not I actually want to fix this.
There. I said it.
I don't know if this makes me a horrible person. Or at least a very screwed up one.
Because what it has come down to is that:
- I have acknowledged there is indeed a problem.
- I have established that this problem is not a transient phase that I will simply "get over."
- I have taken a variety of different approaches to solve this problem.
- I have talked to several different people about said problem.
- I have found that the problem is not being adequately dealt with to resolve said problem.
- The problem is beginning to have lasting effects on my life.
- I know what the next steps to solve the problem most likely should be.
And last, and worst, of all...
I don't want to take those steps because some sadistic part of me is apparently enjoying wallowing in the utter mess that is my life.
To say it in less dramatic terms, I should really go talk to a therapist or see a doctor (in case there is an underlying physiological reason behind this) or simply realize that I have to grow up and act like an adult and
I DON'T WANT TO.
I want to wallow. To sleep in until 2:30 in the afternoon and stay up all night reading Fanfiction and watching Netflix. I want an entire week to go by and not leave my house. I don't want to be social. I don't want to do my dishes or vacuum my house. I don't want to have to go out and sell myself to a vet clinic so I can gain clinical hours and apply to vet school and... I am just so sick of all the pressure and the responsibility and my infernal need to always make the correct decision.
So yes. I should probably be doing something about this. I should have some self-discipline. I should make an effort to go out and be part of the world. And to eat regular meals. And go to sleep on time. And not constantly whine about how much my life sucks.
But I don't want to.
And that's what I am struggling with at -- I guess it's now 4:00 in the morning (which is still not "five o'clock in the morning," but is close enough) and I am sitting on my bed writing an anonymous blog post in the dark (which I know is not good for my eyes) and I just want to say that there is major suckage going on at the moment. And that I found a video on Youtube that makes me feel better but fixes nothing.
And here it is, because I am in a caring and sharing mood. For the record, John Green and his brother Hank are some of the only people I like to watch on Youtube that are not musicians. And when I read John Green's book, The Fault in Our Stars, I had to exert considerable effort not to cry.
For those of you out there who are feeling as depressed as I am, here is a video from the Vlogbrothers called "Perspective."
Note: Just in case the video didn't work, I added the link as well.
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