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.