I’d ask, “Does anybody else ever feel this way, but I realized mostly the answers to those questions are, ’shut up you whiner.’”
I feel like I’m doing it all wrong, like I’m messing everything up. I’ve been going in to work at 7:30 a.m. and feeling too tired to do much but pick at my YA novel and a few stories in progress, and I feel like a shitty friend (I don’t call anybody — anybody), and a shitty writer (note how I said ‘pick at,’ not ‘write in’), and a shitty person in general (I keep feeling like I’m being a bitch to my parents; they don’t seem to notice it and it might just be paranoia). Like, I’m trying to make this job work, but I get this weird, freaked-out sense that I’m losing touch with the stuff that’s actually important to me: I haven’t been cooking, I haven’t been writing, I’m not even gossiping or saying things like, “bitch please” while on the phone with people I love, a lot. Like, a lot a lot. Oh, and also, foolishly, I looked up my so called “ideal weight” online today and it’s uh…close to 25 lbs less than I currently weigh. (Now, don’t get me wrong, I could lose 5-10 lbs, but I keep glancing in the mirror and thinking I might look weird if I lose 25.) It’s probably just Tuesday night panic. I’m sure everything will look less dire tomorrow.
*pets*
Life is hard. I’m not being patronizing here, it’s true!
(And dude, if you lost 25 lbs your head would look HUUUUGE. Don’t do it.)
Moving to new york is kind of depressing when you don’t know anyone. I’ve been here for a month. Believe me, I know how you feel.
I would like to say I know how you feel but I hate when people say that to me. So I’m just going to say this. Think of it as an adjustment period. Getting use to being in a new city, a new job. You’ve got to get into the rhythm of things and than you’ll find the time to do the things you love and the bitch please will flow forth with out thought. I hope that doesn’t sound patronizing. I live in NYC but I’ve been here my whole life so it’s easy for me to say that, some people say it’s a fast city. You’ll find you rhythm.
Peace
I can tell you from direct experience that storytelling is a use or lose it, at least where fiction is concerned.
I come across some of my typewritten stuff from my college days (nearly a quarter of a century ago) and wonder who wrote that. Now, I’m the master of the incisive memo or explanatory note, but storytelling? It’s nearly gone.
My advice? Yes, make the job work. Living indoors and eating regularly are Good Things. Also pick harder at the story. Don’t let that go.
Dude, they still say I should be around 120. *shakes head* I don’t look like I’m 60 pounds “overweight”. Maybe I look like I’m 20 pounds over a good weight. Which, according to myself? When I look and feel my best? I could stand to lose a few pounds. But not sixty. If I lost sixty pounds, my arms and legs would be sticks, and I’d look like a toothpick with big boobs. Right now, I just look like I have a little tummy. That’s all. So don’t let that “ideal weight” thing get to you. I stopped caring once I really realized that it absolutely does not take muscle into consideration. ;)
As for the rest of it, give it a little time. Get use to the idea of being somewhere else than where you’re at. Apparently, I’m suppose to be a lot more excited about this wedding thing than I am.
I feel like I’m doing it all wrong, like I’m messing everything up
I wouldn’t normally comment on the personal life of someone I don’t really know, but I’ve been similarly stressed the last few weeks or so. And I hate feeling that way because you have to constantly tell yourself it’s not true, things’ll get better, ect ect and really it gets to be so wearing. Just look for the little things you are doing right and cling to them until there’s a break in the routine and you can reevalute. And I’m totally talking about myself here as much as anyone else :-/
if you did ask that question, i’d say holy hell yes! this is basically how last year went for me, except substitute move to nyc with move to small midwest city (from nyc-sized city) and ya novel with a bazillion medical terms in martian (i don’t care what anyone says, no amount of high school latin could make sense of those words). the simple fact is you’re depressed. maybe not a lot, hopefully not pathologically, but you’re stressed and it’s taking a toll. maybe it’s the new city; maybe it’s graduating and having to be an “adult”; maybe it’s meredith mckay withdrawal (i know that causes me a lot of distress). i don’t know your life and i can’t tell you how to fix it, but i can tell you what i did wrong/right.
the best cure is to have john sheppard move in across the hall and lean against his doorway snuggling a kitten (or something equally miraculous and uplifting), but short of that, keep talking to people and doing things you love. even if you’re not in the mood for “bitch pleases” (bitches please?), give your friends credit for liking you for more than your brilliant snarkasm. believe me, whining totally improves any bad day.
the scariest part for me was not enjoying things anymore. most of the time it was because i couldn’t stop stressing out, but also because i felt guilty goofing around when i was screwing up my life and didn’t think i deserved fun. people will tell you: stick with it. don’t give up. you’ll do better if you apply yourself (i still want to kick that guy in the head everytime i hear his name). what someone shoulda yelled in my stupid face was “take a goddamn break!” if you find that you absolutely can’t do anything right (or at least meet your expectations), stop throwing yourself against a locked door and walk outside. you might run across a battering ram or a locksmith. yes, that was shameful, but i’m no writer. the point is allow yourself to relax, hard as that may be at times.
if you totally skipped over all that rambling, then at least read this: don’t ever feel bad about feeling bad. also, one plaintive “it’s not fair everything sux0rz!” to your best friend/mother/fellow interweb perves is worth $1000 in therapy. really! there have been studies. by, er, martians.
sorry for the unsolicited blabbing but this entry just struck a chord with me (no alternate motive or anything *mumble* altho i miss connor lots so plz fil bettr n rite mor thnx *mumble*).
I’m going through something like this- I’m pretty sure it’s a combination of weather and hormones, but I’ve been in tears every day this week, and not just teary-eyed, but sobbing. I’m paying 60 thousand a year (or taking that out in loans) and I’ve missed two classes this week and I DONT CARE- which isn’t like me. I DONT miss class, especially one that is so important.
But it’s been so hard to feel anything but deep, dark depression. What’s really worrying me is that all the inspiration I’ve had to write fics has had a suicidal theme. I’m not going to commit suicide, I’ve gotten myself past that, but I might be on the edge of another black hole, one I could fall in for months… I don’t want to be. That’s a really, really, bad place to be.
So yeah, I get it. But I’ve been avoiding that hole the last few years by taking mental health days where I do nothing more than eat unhealthy food and watch TV or surf or play SIMS 2. Can I suggest doing that without sounding like an amateur psychologist?
I’m really sorry to hear that you’re having a hard time right now but not at all surprised. After all, you’ve moved to a new city, and have a new apartment, room, flatmates and, of course, a new job with new work colleagues, bosses, expectations, tasks, etc. All of this, even if it is exactly, 100% what you would have chosen for yourself, involves huge changes, needs some period of adjustment and is REALLY tiring.
In addition to which, a very wise person once told me that any change, however good, involves some degree of loss which may require some degree of mourning. Moving to New York and starting a fantabulous career means that you’ve left behind a life that you enjoyed - you WILL enjoy this new life too but you’ve got to take it easy on yourself and accept that there will be things your’re not happy about right now.
I’m guessing that you’re probably so tired at the moment that you can’t really appreciate even the most positive aspects of your move because you’re just too stressed from all you have to absorb.
As for your writing I’m sure (but hoping and praying too) that once you’re not as tired from all the adjusting you have to do, this will fall into place as well.
The only tangible pieces of advice I can proffer are, notwithstanding your disinclination (which I totally get), call friends and relatives and have a good moan at them - try to spread it about the pack, nor for their sake but so that you don’t feel self-conscious about whining to any one person too much. These people know and love you, they won’t mind, THEY ARE PROBABLY MISSING YOU AND WOULD LOVE TO HEAR FROM YOU, they may well have some helpful/consolatory things to say and it will be good for you to vent - if you’re anything like me, by the time you’ve told the fourth person your story about XYZ, you’ll be so bored of it, you’ll just get over it and on to the next thing.
The second thing I would say is just be easier on yourself, cut yourself some slack, try not to take on any more at the moment than is absolutely necessary and, I’m sure there are lots of fangirls in NYC who would love to show your around, etc. - take whatever help is offered and let them. If NYC is anything like London, 70% of the population comes from somewhere else, which means that 70% of the people you meet will have been through the transition you’re going through and will be sympathetic just as I have and am.
The third thing of course is, whenever you can find the time, squeeze in some really good fanfiction - maybe lodge an appeal for recommendations, when all else fails, comfort reading never lets you down.
Hoping you’re feeling better soon.
Just from having seen your posts and read your work I know that a) you are smart b) you are funny c) you are talented bordering on genius - yeah, I’m not exaggerating.
Whatever choices you end up making just keep a) b) and c) in mind.
Oh and if I lost 20 lbs and got to my ‘desired’ weight I would be a skeletal wraith. Bah to the stupid “ideal weight” chart.
From the look of it, those ideal weight tables are designed for Chinese women.
Dude, all these other people are helpful. Listen to them, plus, drink more for happiness.
Before I graduated, everyone told me that it would take me about a year, maybe more, to decompress from school and figure out how to work full time and live without graduation as a goal. I was like, “Yeah, fine, decompression, that’s cool,” and didn’t really think anything of it. But, in all seriousness, the first year out is weird. It’s only in the past couple of months that I’ve felt like I could start to piece myself back together and figure out what I’ve turned into. I totally get feeling like you’re doing the wrong thing, feeling like you’re making bad decisions and losing the pieces of your identity that keep you happy and sane. And my answer is: there is no way that you could do the wrong thing here. If you are alive, and working, and trying to figure this out, then you’re doing it right.
Here’s the other thing: for me, personally, I love what this past year has done to me. I feel more confident and capable, more mature, different. I think, although I can’t promise, that you’ll come out on the other side of this feeling more like Pru — knowing even better who you are and what your potential is.