A Kingdom of Isolation: A Personal Essay Just For You, My Darling Readers

Sometimes, I feel like I owe all of you more than
what I’ve given.

The past few years have been rocky and uncertain.
For the first time in my life, I really didn’t know what I was going to do.

I applied for grad school at the very, very last
minute as I was finishing up my last semester of undergrad. I had never even considered
it until earlier that year.

And I dunno… but that’s not really ……. me?

It was spontaneous. Pretty much anyone who knows
me outside of this blog can verify that I am—in any way, shape, or form—not spontaneous.

I don’t regret going to grad school. Really, I don’t.

But something changed. Well, a lot of things
changed. I moved off campus and lived with people besides my family for the
first time. I had to juggle groceries, rent, classes, work, personal
relationships, and a hundred other little things.

I wasn’t prepared.

I had never been that person before. I always
adhered to what I was certain was best for me, up to that point.

But there were so many factors involved in moving
out and everything that a lot slipped through the cracks.

I ended up in the hospital after eating something
that I didn’t know would cause an allergic reaction. The crappy part is that I
knew there was a possibility. But I was getting impatient with my food not
cooking fast enough, and a certain ingredient made my throat close up and burn.
I got stuck in the hospital by myself for hours, hooked up to all sorts of
equipment, when I was honestly fine by the time I got there because I’d gotten
enough oxygen. I ended up having a massive panic attack when they pulled out a
needle!

I genuinely struggled for time to get everything
done for class, in addition to working 15 hours a week as a tutor, with an
extra class slot going to talking about tutoring with my peers and overhead.
Big projects and big responsibilities.

Then I moved into an apartment right before the
school semester started and began teaching. Just weeks after moving into the
apartment, I dealt with the fallout from a breakup that destroyed my self-esteem
for a while (everything worked out in the end, but it didn’t feel like it
would).

A lot of what happened after that honestly feels
like a blur.

I swallowed my permanent retainer (which is
basically an unfolded paper clip, in terms of shape and size). I developed an
interest in an online friend, but I got cold feet and freaked out because I
felt like I’d been manipulated. I fixed a lot of the damage I did. But it wasn’t
enough.

I started on a new pain medication that made me
gain weight and feel super-groggy. This affected my ability to teach my morning
classes, grade papers, and just function as an overall person. I didn’t really
know exactly what the issue was at the time. I just knew something was off.

I struggled. I’m a fighter. I fight for everything
and do my best to earn everything I’ve ever had. For the first time in my life,
I had lost my fight. The worst part was that I didn’t even know it was gone.

I was miserable. I didn’t want to do anything when
I got home from work. My roommates were stressing me out to an extreme degree,
and my work-life balance was extremely skewed. It still is. I heartily
apologize to anyone I’ve ever had to turn down for conversation or company
because of my issues.

I found myself slipping into a massive fountain of
negativity. A lot of things sucked.

I ended up having the rug yanked out from under me
in terms of a job that I thought I was a shoe-in for (particularly since I was
told it was pretty much a certainty). That’s something I was very much not
accustomed to.

My negativity snowballed. Then I found a substitute
for the job I thought I’d get. I found a way. I found as many ways as I could.

But I slipped again.

And that’s how I’ve been. I get absorbed in the
things that bother me. I obsess over everything. Seriously, everything. I latch
onto childhood dreams that make no sense anymore.

The further I go, the harder I find it to work.
There’s just some horrible mental barrier that often prevents me from doing,
well, anything productive.

In the past, I was able to balance this. I was
able to take breaks and eventually get tired of procrastinating.

Now, I find it hard to put my fingers to the
keyboard.

As much as I want things to be easier, I also kind
of want them to be harder. I don’t feel like I’m being challenged the way I
used to be, and yet, everything feels like a struggle.

I have a ton of issues with chronic pain,
including a recent diagnosis of degenerative disc disease. But I would rather
have a different sort of challenge, the kind that doesn’t make my head sink as
I wonder whether I’m capable of doing anything at all.

I feel like I’ve let go of so many things that are
important to me. I want to be better, but I don’t know if I can. I hold myself
back in so many ways. I don’t know what it’s going to take to get out of this
funk.

I want comfort and security. Those are my top-2
priorities. Those are the things I want most.

My relationships cause me stress when I don’t feel
secure in them. Now that I feel more secure about my relationships with other
people, I have one stress off my shoulders.

But freelancing—especially when I stare at Microsoft Word for hours and wonder
why I even bother doing anything, ever—isn’t super-profitable when you’re depressed
and dealing with anxiety and health problems that your insurance doesn’t give a
flying crap about.

And even now, I wasted a lot of time writing this
instead of working. It’s good to get things off my chest, but I’m not sure if
this was even the right way to do it.

I am so, so incredibly fortunate to have the
support of the people who do have my back, even when I don’t have my own back.

If you have ever encouraged me in any way, please
know that I appreciate it.

I once said I could make a compliment last me for
months. I was fine as long as I got one every few months. Now, the compliments sometimes
start to sound like white noise, like they’re not actually for me, like I didn’t
earn them.

The people who love me are so important to me
right now as I fumble around in these trying times.

The security of the people who love me… I couldn’t
ask for more than that. Comfort, though? I don’t feel comfortable financially
(despite being supported in that way as much as possible by my parents), which
means I don’t feel secure in my own future. I am not 100% comfortable with my
lack of effort in my relationships, but I’m working on it. I want to be better.

Be better. Do better.

This is the rawest version of myself. I’m going to
go ahead and post this before I change my mind.


It gets better.

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