This Is the Longest Stretch of Non-Depression I’ve Had in Years

Not too long ago, I had a revelation in the weirdest of places: a fictional fantasy book. When reading A Court of Silver Flames, I related to the main character more than anything I’ve read before.

The self-hatred, the need to punish herself, her inability to feel deserving of anything good, the bad behaviors to numb herself, the underlying rage from her past…it struck a chord on infinite levels.

I decided, at the very least, that the daily crying had to stop. Was I going to be on my deathbed in my old age and think how the entirety of my life was nothing but sadness? Shouldn’t I get a reprieve from my own punishment for merely existing?

To help curb the spiral of crying, self-bashing, then more crying (lather, rinse, repeat), I began telling myself that I can always cry next month. The crying and heartbreak won’t go away. My tears aren’t a debt that I owe to the Depression Overlords.

Going down to one job has helped. Well, it’s helped emotionally. I didn’t realize the full extent of the mental load of juggling multiple jobs, even if I didn’t have immediate work due at any given moment.

Unfortunately, the financial part of that is catching up to me. I knew it would be a tight call, but I didn’t think I’d ever pull from my emergency savings. Now I have to replenish those savings while also paying my regular bills. My 401 (k) contributions went from 15% to 1% but the burden of the extra one-off bills is getting to me.

My kids needed new clothes. I somehow got stuck with a $200 birthday meal bill when going out with a guy (I ended that soon after). I’ve stretched out my son’s allergy appointments to avoid the copays this month and completely ended my daughter’s therapy (saving $800 from her sessions), but it didn’t boost my bank account.

My ex-husband and I agreed to take her to a pediatric neuropsychologist, per the therapist’s recommendation. There are very few of them in my kids’ insurance plan and even then, it’s $300 for the initial consult. A year ago, I would have dropped that cash without question.

There’s my daughter’s overnight field trip coming up in two months. Even splitting the $500 cost with her dad is out of my budget. Does she need to go? Of course not. But it’s been a hell of a year getting her interested in anything and keeping her out of online trouble. I’ll rob a bank if it provides an opportunity for her to learn and experience something new.

I panicked buying a $6 cinnamon bun for her yesterday. I hesitated to pay the $13 in shipping to Otterbox for the warranty replacement of a broken phone case (justifying that it’s significantly cheaper than replacing the phone).

Is this what will slip me back into depression? I keep debating if I should go back to a second job, but I know I’m not ready yet. I’m barely surviving my current job because when I started, I barely paid attention to anything taught to me (what with juggling all the jobs). Now that it’s been almost a year, I’m not in a position to act dumb and ask questions that were answered months ago when I was in New Girl mode.

Once I get the hang of it, then I’ll go for another job.

Fuck. I just remembered that I have to take my daughter for a haircut this evening. Cha-ching.

On a good note, I found a few things to sell on eBay. The bad news is that my limited online purchases have left me with no shipping boxes. There’s irony somewhere in there.

I’m gonna need money.

Another two weeks have passed.

The past few days have been rough. Financially, I had to bump out my mortgage payment to coincide with payday. It’s been years since I’ve been in I-don’t-have-the-cash-for-rent mode. But for now, I’m surviving.

My divorce parenting guilt crept up on me and came to a head when dropping off old toys and clothes at Goodwill. Suddenly, every memory of my kids’ faces during that time flashed in my brain. Every moment of pain that I caused their little hearts.

Pain that I caused. I caused it. That was me.

I managed to stop myself from crying too much when driving (which is usually when I have my meltdowns, carryover from my married era when it was the only alone time available) with a mantra of “you can cry later, you’ve cried enough, it’s not going to change anything” repeating on loop.

Yesterday, my daughter wanted Chipotle. I told her I could only afford a kid’s meal. She wasn’t stoked with that. Her pre-teen attitude carried into a tantrum because, since we got the meal to go, I didn’t get the beverage she wanted. Instead, I opted for a milk carton because those don’t expire for months, and there are plenty of times when I didn’t properly calculate my grocery requirements (when you have your kids part-time, you can’t have everything all the time or else they’ll expire).

I felt like the worst parent, arguing with her over a beverage while deep down, I was panicking over the cost of a fucking Chipotle kid’s meal. I can afford a singular meal, but I’m the master of saving money and I know that it’s the little expenses that matter, not the big ones.

It seems finances and parental guilt are enormous triggers for my depression.

To add to it all, I met a guy that I like. I mean, really, really like. I haven’t felt this way since Jeremy. It’s been ages since I haven’t immediately felt an “ick” after a date, let alone plan my exit strategy within a week.

It’s stirring up the worst in me. We’re talking Gwi-Ma whispering in my ear about all the ways that I’m unlovable, I’m too much, I’m not enough, and that no one can love the real me. It results in me blasting What It Sounds Like as my personal anthem.

It’s utterly exhausting to fight against generational trauma and my childhood while playing the role of a functioning adult human. My beliefs that I don’t deserve a happy life like other people are so deeply rooted that I don’t acknowledge them on a surface level.

I know I need to change that. At the very least, I need to continue silencing the demon in my head whispering all the ways I should isolate and wallow in misery. Feeling loved and wanting to reciprocate it is foreign to me. It’s uncomfortable because it feels fake, like I’m pretending to be someone I’m not.

But nothing will change if nothing changes. If I’m going to battle depression, then I also need to accept the good things that can come of it.

For now, I’m still battling the Depression Monster within me but I feel like I’m winning.

For now.

If you’re in the mood to donate to my diet soda addiction to keep me awake as I juggle my hot mess of a life, I would be forever grateful: https://ko-fi.com/ninjagirl.