That’s how I’ve been feeling lately. It’s hard for me to admit that, especially when it looks like I’ve got everything sussed on the surface.
New house, new job. What has this girl got to be sad about?
But there’s deep unhappiness brewing beneath the veneer … and admitting that makes me feel quite guilty. I see people without homes, I know people who can barely afford their rent this month, and people without parents. I try not to sweat the small stuff. But I can’t brush off my mental health as small stuff anymore. Because it’s eating up my insides.
We all have down days. But what happens when a down day becomes a down week and before we know it we’ve been down all month? When is it okay to ask for help without seeming like a hypochondriac?
I’m at breaking point.
I reached it this morning when I couldn’t find the energy or desire to get out of bed. How can I get away with not going to work today? Not because I don’t enjoy my job, but because I was – and am – sick of painting on a cheery disposition when I feel the complete opposite.. On my 25 minute drive to work, I cried. I wanted to pull over onto the hard shoulder and let it all out.
I know I’m not the only one who feels this way. But I’ve never questioned my own self-worth or achievements as I have done now. I’m screaming out for help, but I’ve never felt so alone.
It’s a word I sometimes use to describe myself, and a feeling I often feel. I wouldn’t dare utter that word about any of my friends or family. I feel horrified that this is how I view myself.
There’s no easy solution to this. It’s not a put a plaster on the wound kind of job. So what now? Because I don’t know. I’m going in completely blindsided. But I’m working on it.