Wanderlust

I've been doing a lot of introspective thinking lately, mainly on ways to overcome not only the stress and anxiety from my current job, but also the crushing depression that always comes back every two or three weeks. I have a tendency to avoid being active in any capacity outside of work while feeling low, which results in a bubble effect due to having a more limited social experience than usual. During these periods I'm my own worst critic, and I often struggle with feelings of worthlessness and invalidation. Stressors at work exacerbate the problem and make it difficult to climb out of a depressive episode once I'm firmly entrenched in one.

With more exposure to good experiences outside of that bubble, I've realized it's easier to get out of a bad mood when there's more positivity to draw from compared to the negative reinforcement that tends to happen on a regular basis at work. Being outside in good weather seems to be the most effective method so far.

All of this might seem obvious to most     I always knew the best route to learning to live with depression would involve committing to being more physically active, but during my lowest point it feels so futile to even bother trying.

Monachopsis

Throughout my life I've always felt alienated, separated from everyone else and plagued with the feeling of being alone. It's always felt as though it's me versus 'them', whoever 'they' might be. While I was still living with my mother I believed that this sense of displacement would lift once I moved out, and that I would be able to work on having a social life that didn't revolve around hiding the truth or having to explain why I couldn't invite anyone over.

Once I did move out, I realized it wasn't going to be as easy as I thought. My roommate didn't clean, ever. I refused to clean up after her mess considering I had just spent the majority of my life doing so for my mother, and I felt ashamed of the way the apartment looked as a result, as if it were my fault rather than hers.

Moving again, I found some peace in another apartment in the same neighborhood. That arrangement seems to be much more beneficial in terms of coping with anxiety and depression, but I still struggle every day. There's still the persistent, crushing loneliness I feel in knowing my experiences separate me from 'normal' people. I still feel like my inexperience in being a good host shows, and that in turn makes me more self conscious about the cleanliness of an apartment that's already very clean. It's difficult to emotionally understand that the state of my living space isn't a direct reflection on who I am as a person, because I allowed my mother's hoard define me for over two decades.

Although things have improved tremendously, I'm at a loss as to why loneliness and anxiety persist.

Almost a year later, here I am.

I've neglected this blog and writing in general for a long time. There are always the usual excuses; feeling too tired after a long day of bullshit at work, not knowing what to write, etc. But there's also the fact that even though it's been almost a year and a half since moving out, the trauma that came from living with a hoarder is still something that affects me deeply. Nothing ever feels clean enough, no matter how much I've tried.

A lot of things have taken place in the past year, some of which I'd like to forget. Last summer was particularly hard to get through. My roommate at the time had decided to not only force me to move out in order for her friend to move in, but to lie about the reason why. She claimed her mother had been abused by her stepfather and needed a place to stay, which was unnecessary in my opinion, but in the two weeks that it took to find a new apartment she also turned into the most inconsiderate, disgusting and self-serving person I've ever met in my life.

Anxiety and depression were at an all time high at this point, and there were several times throughout last July and August that saw a dip in my performance at work. The anxiety made me feel too sick to eat, and I ended up losing a lot of weight. While searching desperately for a new place to live, my former roommate and I were fighting over my part of the security deposit, which she wanted to keep regardless of having no valid reason to do so.

One of my friends had mentioned he was interested in looking for a new apartment as well, so we decided to start searching for a two-bedroom to share instead. I figured it would be easier now that both of us were looking at listings, calling realtors and viewing apartments. Unfortunately after an entire week we had come up with only one vaguely promising listing, which ended up falling through shortly after. We resorted to walking in to every real estate office in the neighborhood in person, only to be told nothing was available. I was ready to give up. It felt like I was on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

Luckily, my friend and I managed to find an amazing place only a week before I had to move. Since then things have been better, though I still find myself struggling; depression and anxiety are still a major part of my life, and the process of finding out how to deal with it hasn't been an easy one.