The Road So Far
So long story short, I transferred stores and while I'm much happier now, I'm still dealing with some remaining emotional issues. I still found I wasn't who I used to be, but I don't expect to be.
There are some friendships I've lost along the way, some bridges I've burned. My circumstances changed but more importantly, I have changed. I no longer see the world through rose colored glasses. I'm not the bright, bubbly person I once was. I am sometimes, but I'm more than that now. I feel everything so deeply; I care far too much or too little.
I'm lost, drowning in a sea of nothing and everything. I've dealt with depression before in the past, but I was a different person and it was a different illness. Some days are good; others I can't seem to get out of bed. I'm listless, restless and bored.
In the end, I think I blame my old boss for turning me into this. I think I blame myself for not being strong enough to resist her horrible brainwashing, emotional and mental abuse. I think I thought it would be easy to snap myself out of this like I did last time when I was in college.
I didn't expect my new store to be a cure-all, a magical band-aid that would solve all my sadness. But I'm surrounded by friends who think that mental illness is a "pull yourself up by your bootstraps" type of thing; that it is simply a choice. The suggestion that anyone would choose to be miserable is absurd. There's something wrong with me, but I'm not ashamed of that.
And for now I'm just trying to figure things out.
There are some friendships I've lost along the way, some bridges I've burned. My circumstances changed but more importantly, I have changed. I no longer see the world through rose colored glasses. I'm not the bright, bubbly person I once was. I am sometimes, but I'm more than that now. I feel everything so deeply; I care far too much or too little.
I'm lost, drowning in a sea of nothing and everything. I've dealt with depression before in the past, but I was a different person and it was a different illness. Some days are good; others I can't seem to get out of bed. I'm listless, restless and bored.
In the end, I think I blame my old boss for turning me into this. I think I blame myself for not being strong enough to resist her horrible brainwashing, emotional and mental abuse. I think I thought it would be easy to snap myself out of this like I did last time when I was in college.
I didn't expect my new store to be a cure-all, a magical band-aid that would solve all my sadness. But I'm surrounded by friends who think that mental illness is a "pull yourself up by your bootstraps" type of thing; that it is simply a choice. The suggestion that anyone would choose to be miserable is absurd. There's something wrong with me, but I'm not ashamed of that.
And for now I'm just trying to figure things out.
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