Yeah, we’re staring down the barrel of a pandemic that could kill millions and I’m over here whining about my shitty life and mental health. Oh well. I can’t do anything to save anyone else and feel like I’m not doing such a good job of saving myself, so.
After I wrote yesterday’s blog post I genuinely felt better. I was able to start listening to a broader range of music instead of the sad, wistful or despairing songs. I was genuinely relieved by the idea of just letting myself do my thing instead of conforming to expectations for how I should handle rejection or the pursuit of a relationship. I was comforted by the thought that I don’t owe the universe emotional availability.
I was talking about it with A later in the day, though, and suddenly I had this image of my life to come – kids and a job. Bam, the depression was back. That just feels so empty.
-yes, I’m aware many people are going to be utterly HORRIFIED that I could talk about my kids and my life being empty. Obviously the fact that I have children means I should be full of warm fuzzies and that their existence should give my life meaning and purpose and encourage me to keep going.
I was never that person. I was never going to find meaning and purpose and fulfillment in parenthood. Yes, I love them. I genuinely find them to be neat and interesting people and I care that they grow up healthy and loved. I also feel incredibly trapped by their existence. I don’t find that my life has meaning because they love me – I know very well that kids are going to love and bond with their parents no matter what, even when those parents are objectively shitty people. I don’t particularly draw comfort from being loved by people that have no real choice about it.
Parenting stresses me out. The cost to me is incredibly high. I do the best I can to give them the healthy love they deserve from me, but I don’t get a reward from it, I don’t get replenished by it. It’s a duty, not a delight.
I don’t resent them for it. None of this is their fault and it would be vastly unkind of me to project that onto them. Their presence in my life is neutral at best, though, not a net gain. A job in a field I dislike is not even neutral, it’s a net loss. And that’s what my life is going to consist of.
The only consistently good thing that’s a net gain in my life are my friendships, and saying that makes me experience the irrational fear that now the universe will try to take that from me, too.
I’m about to start earning a paycheck where I could at least try to provide myself some emotional salve in the form of little day trips to explore the region the way I’ve wanted to, BUT NO. Global pandemic!
And in what feels like the universe rubbing salt in the wound, we’re on our second day of rainy weather.