I’ve been depressed for a couple of days.
Woke up yesterday with a sense of unease and the sort of dread that comes from working a demeaning, low paying job where one repeats the same activities while pasting on a fake smile.
The day went from uneasy to miserable pretty quickly. I felt listless, drained, and sluggish. The paycheck did not help: I knew that I would be forking over $250 to my roommate, with the bulk of the next one going straight into her pocket. By the time I clocked out, I just wanted to vanish.
And as if work and the living situation weren’t horrid enough, I got caught in rain, with groceries in hand, and overwhelmed by noise. By the time I got back to the duplex, I just wanted to curl up in a little ball.
And when the roommate oh so kindly reminded me that, next payday, I would be living off my tips, I wanted to scream. (Bagging groceries is not a surefire way to rake in tips; you may make $50+ one day, and work yourself into the ground to get $5 the next.)
Right now, I just feel beaten, bled dry, and discouraged. Yeah, yeah, I’m not the only person on this planet in dire straits, someone else has it worse, I have to suck it up and keep going, yada yada yada. All the platitudes and motivational drivel. To be honest, these things just make me feel worse: how dare I not be cheerful, why am I not trying harder, what an ungrateful, spiteful bitch I must be…
Except, well, most days I can and do suck it up. I have days when I can smile. And I know well that I could be in worse condition.
It’s just hard, sometimes, going through, to see where or how things will get better. And if I wouldn’t dare tell someone “God doesn’t give you more than you can handle,” why would I want to hear that from anyone, however good the intentions?