I think I am chronically nostalgic. At least on rainy days. There are days when I like to sit down and read over my writings through the years and reflect on what is the same, what is different, what was the driving force for my younger self.
One through line that I see in almost all of my reflective posts is a desire for things to go back to the way they were. When I was 19 I longed for silly high school nights, laughing my head off with my friends in the car, parked in some parking lot and spilling years of secrets and hopes and dreams to one another, side by side in the front seat.
When I was 24, I longed for a girl who thought she knew pain but didn’t at all. I longed to go back to a place where I had a more innocent, trusting heart, when I didn’t realize that people had the power to hurt me so much.
Now, I long for the optimism I had three, five, ten years ago. I had a sense that even though I might be sad, even though things might be difficult, there was always hope that that chapter would close and a new and exciting one would begin. When school is stressful, you remind yourself that you will one day finish school. When your job is stressful, you remind yourself that one day you’ll have one that aligns with your passions. When you’re sick of the city you’re living in, you remind yourself that you’re moving home and everything will be better.
But at this point in my life, and I think this is why I’ve been so depressed as of late – it kind of feels like there is nothing to look forward to. If you don’t like your job, of course you can get another one, but it probably won’t be that different. Sure, you can move cities, but starting fresh in a new place as an adult is very difficult, plus, where would you even go?
I didn’t think that I would feel this stuck as an adult. I feel so cornered by my life choices up to this point. And I feel like there is no immediate course of action to correct what I’m struggling with. It feels like I’m always struggling. Emotionally, financially, physically. I’ll be in a good mood but have a migraine, I’ll be physically able but depressed, I’ll feel great and social but feel guilty for spending money.
It feels better to write it down. I don’t know why I’ve had such difficulty getting words out over the last few years. I hoped the medication would help and it has, some, but the heaviness is still there. I don’t know how it could possibly go away without a dramatic change in circumstances.