I am drowning in anxiety. It’s eating me from the inside out.
It’s not the fact that I haven’t had a proper job in months; or the fact that very soon I won’t have a job at all. It’s not the fact that I have to move house and sign a new lease that I’m not sure I’ll even be able to keep up. It’s not the fact that after almost 10 years living on my own, supporting myself, being independent; I may have to admit defeat and move home.
Though these things are certainly factors in the prickly feeling that has been constantly swirling in my stomach for months; the biggest worry for me is the fact that I can’t just suck it up and deal with these things. Not only am I failing parlously at my career - at any job at all, in fact - but I’m failing to be a functioning adult about it, too.
And being a failure is exhausting. I’m tired of putting on a brave face when people ask me what I’m working at; pretending not to mind that after four years in my industry, I’m right back where I started with barely anything to show for it. I’m tired of being optimistic about my prospects when I’m not entirely sure I have any. I’m tired of disintegrating whenever I’m left alone. I’m tired of leaning on others for support; of being this useless, pathetic, whiny little person who is just unable to deal with the normal ups and downs of life.
And despite all this emotionally draining bullshit that wears me out and drags me down, I cannot sleep. Which is why I’m up at 2.30am, beating myself up - because the way my life has turned out is my responsibility. Nobody else’s.
I need help. I can’t function on my own. It’s time to face up to the fact that I’m just a weak person who needs their hand held. I need someone to help me get my life on track - and that sickens me. I hate it. I wish more than anything in the world that I could do these things myself. But I simply cannot, and I hate myself for it.
I’m truly sick of myself.