Trigger warning: This is me being sad and ultimately tired.
Real life has been absolutely harsh to me lately and I’ve not been handling it well. I’m currently taking time off work because I need to focus on other career stuff. I was ordered to take an English proficiency examination; it’s one of the requirements in order to get my papers worked on and stuff. (It’s a long story and maybe I’ll write another entry about it when I’m feeling better.)
Plainly put, folks at home are counting on me and I don’t want to let them down. Literally, everyone’s begging me to get my shit together as if it’s sort of a thing people are capable of overnight. And unlike most people, I’m not from the privileged bunch. My mom is flushing a huge amount of money for this and I’m really really scared that I will fuck this up like everything else within my reach. My nursing career, my future, etc. I’m terrified that what I have isn’t up to par with the world’s expectations.
The pressure I’m under is getting the best of me. This has been confirmed earlier while I was going through this day as myself. There I was watching MasterChef when my eyes started welling up and I couldn’t stop them from being so. I still don’t know what to do while there’s a blind lady kicking ass on American television. Why can’t I have that kind of passion for anything? I’m almost 24 and here I am, still getting pushed by mother into anything just so I can have something.
Add to that a little petty bit that happened earlier tonight. I got tagged on a picture of pigs on a truck. If today is an ordinary, stress-free day, I could have laughed it off. I mean, that tiny gesture to piss me off was screaming lame but today isn’t ordinary. My emotional well being is all over the place and I am trying my very best to remain calm and composed despite the lack of good stuff on my plate. Today, my sister dug a deep hole on the ground and buried my esteem in it.
Same thing happened yesterday at work. There’s a small clinic next to our office and there’s one doctor who we stumble upon frequently at the smoking area. Yesterday in the lobby, she called me asking if I could spare a minute or two. I said yes, obviously. She started the conversation nicely, asking me how things are at work and stuff then she fired the bullet. She asked if I’m interested in getting slim and that she has magic pills for me, absolutely safe and 100% guaranteed I’ll lose weight before the world ends. This is a minor thing, honestly. I’m used to doctors blabbing about obesity and its relationship with health. Also, I could care less about this doctor person, I know she means well but I have so many things I should be working on so my weight will just have to erm, wait.
The sad thing about this is that I’m not mad. Had it come from other people, I could have been okay (like when the doctor called me out on being fat) because I don’t care about them but she’s family which bums me out the most. She’s well aware of the things I’m going through right now and the least she could do I guess is to refrain from poking the parts that hurt.
Because right now I’m really hurt. It feels like nobody understands how overwhelming things are for me. Like I am back to square one in terms of self acceptance. It’s a long way to get to a place where you don’t give a shit about how you feel like you’re hard wired to be just yourself, good and bad stuff included.
My own troubles pale in comparison, to be sure, and I know that this is just the depression talking, but I’m just really fucking tired. So tired of waiting for the bottom to drop out.