Identity crisis, Depression, or Just Moping?

Published March 3, 2015 by Iphis of Scyros

I feel like I have no purpose in life.  Scratch that.  I feel like I have no life.  No, that’s not quite right, either.  I feel like I have no chance at ever having a life.

I’m clearly not cut out for academia:  I’m just not smart enough.

But I’m never going to make it as a writer, because I suck.

And I can’t get a job, because I’ve never had a job.

And I can’t take the housewife route, because I’m fat and ugly and have a lousy personality.  Plus most men my age are off the market.  Or back on the market after a divorce (or two) and looking for an experienced woman, or a much younger woman, or both.

I’m totally bombing in my class.  And I barely even care.  Because what does it matter if I flunk out now or in a year or two, or if I drop out, or somehow scrape through and get my MA?  I can’t pursue any higher level of education, because I’m too stupid.  So getting an MA or not getting one isn’t going to have much impact on my life.  A lot of people in the program, they’re getting their MA so they can get better pay at their job.  But I don’t have a job, and don’t have any way of getting one, so that’s obviously not a useful angle.

If I only had some kind of artistic abilities, maybe I could somehow find some way of making money.  But anything I try to draw/sculpt/whatever looks like it was done by a five year old.  A particularly untalented one.

I used to think I was a decent singer, but those days are behind me.  Now I know that I’m just as bad at that as at everything else.

And although I still think my story ideas are pretty good, I’ve long since come to accept that I just can’t write.  My characters all act like children–albeit frequently disturbingly horny children–because I am mentally still a child.  I’ve never set foot outside my bubble to join the adult world or have meaningful adult relationships.

But I don’t have any idea how to get out of the bubble.

It’s like The Truman Show, only pathetic and boring.  Like I’m trapped in some bizarre, false reality, where I don’t need to be a grown-up, and don’t even have the option of becoming one.

But to the best of my knowledge, this is the real reality, and I can’t get out of it.  (Well, okay, I could, but I don’t want to go there.  I’m not ready to give up what little life I have.)

I want to be a writer, but I’m utterly inarticulate.  And my vocabulary is actively shrinking, no matter what I try to do to reverse that trend.

I just want to wake up some morning and discover that this whole life has been a bad dream, and I’m really someone else.  Anyone else.

I’m always having these fantasies about undergoing past life regression, so that I can learn that I used to be someone really great, or maybe that I was someone really terrible, and so this life is my punishment for whatever I did wrong in that previous life.  Judging by what my life is like, if that’s the case, I must have been a billionaire playboy, always breaking hearts, and getting ahead ruthlessly by breaking the rules, so the punishment was to be a woman who’s never going to experience love, never going to succeed at anything, and never breaks the rules.  But at least if that’s the case, if I actually could see it and remember it, then I’d understand why I’m like this, and maybe I’d even feel confident that in my next life I’d be someone better, or at least happier.

I don’t think I’ve had many times in my life when I could honestly say to myself that I was happy.

But it feels horribly self-obsessed to whine about it.  I’ve always had food to eat and a roof over my head.  There are people starving and living in the streets.  I ought to be grateful that I’m better off than they are.

Somehow, telling myself that never makes me feel better.

Actually, very little ever makes me feel better.

Sometimes, it turns out that my low points are hormonal, and so I feel better after the cycle moves on, but…I don’t know.  I think I’m going into menopause early.  My cycle’s all screwed up.  It’s like once every two or three months now.  I think it’s because I’ve never been pregnant; the human body wasn’t intended to go this long without reproducing, and it’s playing havoc on the various systems that expect to have time off for pregnancy.  But it’s not like I could just say “well, gee, then I guess I’d better have a kid and fix that!”  ‘Cause I don’t have anyone to have a kid with, and I’m not responsible enough (mentally or financially) to have a kid by myself via artificial insemination.  Besides, I doubt I’m still fertile.  Not to mention that I got a terrible set of genes, and I really don’t want to pass them on to anyone else.

I feel pretty sad about that, though.  People with kids can relax–look forward–well, they can assume that their kids will take care of them when they get old.  Who’s going to take care of me when I get old?  No one, that’s who.  I’ll end up a lonely, crotchety old lady in a retirement home, with no one to visit her, and no one to care when I die.

I’ll be like Eleanor Rigby, you know?  Dying alone, buried without a single mourner.

Nothing I can do about it, though.  I have no idea even how to make friends, let alone find love.

Ugh.

I’m making myself even more depressed.

And I have to watch the rest of that idiotic ethnic slur of a “romantic comedy” for class.  The first twenty-five minutes certainly weren’t funny, and I don’t see any way the rest could be, either.  And there’s no freakin’ way it’ll ever get romantic.

Then again, maybe that’ll make me feel a little bit better about myself.  Because it’s always cheering to see that there are people less intelligent and less talented than you are, right?

Advertisements

2 comments on “Identity crisis, Depression, or Just Moping?

    • Thanks. I was actually a little better already by last night–I watched an episode of “The Rose of Versailles” which concluded with the omniscient narrator reminding the audience that the departing Madame du Barry was going to become “a stain on the guillotine platform” in 1793, and I was like “hey, at least I’m better off than she is!”

      Today I’m also pretty good because I just let off some steam by ranting about the terrible movie that my professor made us watch. I just hope he didn’t like the movie. (But it was one giant ethnic slur against Greeks, and he’s a citizen of Greece, so surely he can’t like it. I hope…)

      Like

  • Leave a Reply

    Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

    WordPress.com Logo

    You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

    Twitter picture

    You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

    Facebook photo

    You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

    Google+ photo

    You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

    Connecting to %s

    MatthewMeyer.net

    paintings, illustrations, and blog

    Arwen's Butterflies and Things

    My BJD creation blog. Here's where my sewing creations and projects are showcased. Some outfits are for sale. Please use the tags & catagories to navigate this blog. I love comments and reviews!

    History From Below

    Musings on Daily Life in the Ancient and Early Medieval Mediterranean By Sarah E. Bond

    Yureya

    Breath of moments

    Rose B. Fischer

    Author. Artist. Evil Genius.

    My Tiny Joy

    Where little things matter!

    Klein's Other Toys

    Comics, Funko Pops and Anime figures oh my!

    BINARYTHIS

    EVERYTHING YOU ALWAYS WANTED TO KNOW ABOUT GENDER BUT WERE TOO AFRAID TO ASK

    Creating Herstory

    Celebrating the women who create history

    Kicky Resin

    BJDs et al

    Lala Land

    (>°~°)><(°~°<)

    A'Cloth the World

    Where Textiles, Fashion, Culture, Communication and Art Come Together.

    starshiphedgehog

    Occasionally my brain spurts out ideas and this is where I put them

    Rose B. Fischer

    Author. Artist. Evil Genius.

    The Social Historian

    Adventures in the world of history

    medievalbooks

    Erik Kwakkel blogging about medieval manuscripts

    Sara Letourneau's Official Website & Blog

    Poet and speculative fiction writer for teens and adults

    Zounds, Alack, and By My Troth

    A tragical-comical-historical-pastoral webcomic by Ben Sawyer

    Project Doll House

    never too old to play with dolls

    knotted things

    All about the things that I'm all about.

    Eclectic Alli

    A bit of this, a bit of that, the meandering thoughts of a dreamer.

    Omocha Crush

    Secret Confessions of a Toy Addict

    C.G.Coppola

    Fantasy & Science-Fiction romance Writer

    WordDreams...

    Jacqui Murray's

    Onomastics Outside the Box

    Names beyond the Top 100, from many nations and eras

    Hannah Reads Books

    "To absent friends, lost loves, old gods, and the season of mists; and may each and every one of us always give the devil his due." -Neil Gaiman

    Memoirs of a Time Here-After

    the writings, musings, and photography of a dream smith

    Taking a Walk Through History

    Walking back in time to discover the origins of every historical route on earth

    SENTENTIAE ANTIQUAE

    ΕΥΔΟΞΑ ΑΓΝΩΣΤΑ ΚΑΤΑΓΕΛΑΣΤΑ

    Pullips and Junk

    We're all mad about Pullips here!

    mycupofteaminiatures

    Handmade miniatures

    Dutch Fashion Doll World

    A Dutch Barbie collector in Holland

    Confessions of a Doll Collectors Daughter

    Reviews and News From the Doll World

    It's a Britta Bottle!

    Small Stories of a Twenty-Something Adventuring Through Life

    DataTater

    It's all small stuff.

    The Photographicalist

    Preserving the photographical perspective

    The Daily Post

    The Art and Craft of Blogging

    The WordPress.com Blog

    The latest news on WordPress.com and the WordPress community.

    %d bloggers like this: