So it has been quite a while since we have last spoken. Or since I was able to write anything. It's been a rough past few months, getting through the holidays and getting back into the swing of things at work. But I've also been afraid to come back here. I started this blog because I felt like I had something to say. Something worth saying and subsequently, something worth reading. But in order to be myself here online, I had to seem perfect, I had to present the best possibly version of myself. Isn't that what we all do? We present the best possible version of ourselves here on the internet, where we don't really have a face if we chose not to parade it around. But I think if I really want to be able to write here regularly and without fear of being judged for having less than phenomenal work, I have to be honest about who I am. In October of 2011 I was diagnosed by a psychologist with Social Anxiety and Depression. Which explains my lack of content here, because I was afraid to be judged (anxiety) and afraid to talk about how sometimes my life isn't perfect (depression).
I’m 22 years old. And I get depressed because I don’t know what I’m doing with my life. I feel as if my whole life I’ve been guided down this brilliantly lit street. Each new block being cascaded by the street lights leading me through elementary school, middle school, high school, and then college. And then this nice, serene alley-like path leads to a 10 lane interstate in every possible direction, with no street-lights whatsoever. Just the headlights of fellow travelers as they speed by and leave you in the dust. And my immediate response is to curl up in a ball and cry. I don’t know what to do. I can’t turn around, as life is only lived in one direction, but I just don’t know how to take the proper steps to ease myself onto this interstate. I don’t know what I’m doing. I feel like not only am I afraid of the interstate, I’m also trying to conquer it with a ten speed bicycle. I am ill prepared for life in the real world. Part of that is my parents, and face it, when aren’t our parents at fault for some of it. But also, I’ve just never felt as if I would have to face something like this so ill prepared. I thought my life was going to magically spread itself before me, road-block-less and all.
But that’s what I get for being an American…
I'll admit it, my life has been really easy in comparison with others. Which makes it hard for my to admit that I'm depressed, because people in situations so much worse than my own are much happier and coping so much better. Who am I to complain? Some selfish middle-class chick who has a good job and a loving family. ...Yeah, what a shitty life you lead Missy. And I'm not saying my life is shitty, I'm saying I don't know how to handle my life not being perfect.
I initially started this blog in hopes that others would read it, and enjoy my astounding sense of humor and want to be my new best friend. But in order to get some adoring fans, I felt I needed to be up-front about how I feel. I can't sit here and pretend to be someone I'm not. So I'm not going to do that any more. However, as a fun disclaimer, I don't plan on sitting here bitching about how my salad didn't have low-fat dressing on it today, but was instead full-fattening and delicious. I want to write about what I feel comfortable telling you. About how I view my world. About my daily struggles and my semi-regular triumphs. I want to be apart of something much larger than me. While I do work for a rather large business and therefore am apart of something large and wonderful, I want to be feel as though I am a vital part to something I love, and not just a replaceable cog somewhere deep in the underbelly of the machine.
So a very belated toast to the new year, and to a new hope that this small, barely read blog, will be viewed by someone else who is interested in my stories or who at least is literate.
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