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.

Continuum

Looking back upon the last few months, there has been one constant over that course of time; depression is a never-ending, continuous presence that varies in intensity but has yet to actually lift. There may be bright spots here and there, but even with the massive overhaul my life has been going through it's still always in the back of my mind. It's always ready to surface at any moment with even the slightest provocation, and although it may come across as naive, I truly believed a better job and moving out were going to make a bigger difference than they have. I'm told I've improved by the few people that truly know who I am on the inside, but from my perspective it just doesn't feel that way.

Stress has been the biggest trigger, unsurprisingly. Workplace stress and the feeling of being scrutinized for every minor thing have exacerbated the problem to the point that I wake up angry, full of unexplained rage before I've even left my apartment. My worst habits are trying their hardest to come back and are succeeding. 

Irritation

A few weeks ago, my roommate's boyfriend let himself into our apartment to use the bathroom. He thought no one was home, and wore his shoes inside in spite of being asked not to, fully knowing that she and I are both struggling with OCD. He had no idea I was in my room at the time and likely figured no one would know.

While I was wildly uncomfortable with knowing he was coming here without ever extending the courtesy of asking me if it was all right first, I said nothing to my roommate. I figured I was just being overly sensitive, considering they've been together for over a year and I'm the 'newcomer' in this apartment. However, it sparked an anger in me that I haven't felt since working in retail and has flared up every time I see him here.

Now I find myself faced with the same problem yet again, and can't bring myself to confront him in the moment. I can't help but wonder if he does this every time he thinks no one is home, and it makes me feel as though my space is being invaded. It's a strange grey area I never thought I'd experience in any of my friendships; do I bottle it up to avoid making my roommate feel awkward, or do I tell her and take the risk of looking as insecure as I feel about claiming personal space?

Brighter Days

My mood has seen a definite improvement compared to the constant, extreme depression I'd been struggling with ever since moving out. The warm weather and sunny days are surely a part of the equation, but there are other things that are no less important; forcing myself to go out, to be social, to reach out more often and to resist the instinct to sulk have all been helping to pull me out of the rut I'd settled into.

Hopefully this is a mark of improvement rather than a brief period of relief from the low point I always seem to fall back to. Feeling this way is so completely different that it seems foreign, as if I'm not myself. Things seem clearer and easier to take in, instead of the usual sense of being overwhelmed by life itself.

Disbelief

I recently discovered something incredibly unsettling with a card I had paid off and haven't used or checked in a couple of months; my mother has been using it as if it's her own to pay off her bills and buy food. It explains why I hadn't been able to find that particular one before moving out. Although she's apparently been making payments on it, it's only the minimum due and the balance is several hundred dollars. She clearly doesn't understand how credit works, because this is the case with all of the cards in her name as well - maxed out and paying the lowest possible amount each month. The interest charge is usually enough to negate it, so the balance never goes down. And she simply does not understand that. I feel incredibly betrayed by this, especially considering she 'borrowed' $50 from me recently just to prevent the power from being turned off. I also feel like an idiot for ever trying to help her out.

Before I moved out I had paid off everything, just so I wouldn't have the extra worry of outstanding debt on top of rent. Just the idea of being that much in debt thanks to my own mother makes me feel sick.