The truth is, the last year and a half have been extremely difficult for me. It started with the ending of a relationship which I thought was "the one". It's amazing how you can love someone with all your heart and still know that it's not quite right. Things got tough. Financially, mostly. We were eating poorly because we simply could not afford decent food. This unhealthy diet caught up to me in the form of anemia. I was actually becoming slightly malnourished from our situation. The reason for our financial troubles were that he could not find a job.
Now... when I say "could not find a job", I don't mean there was no work to be had. I mean he literally could not bring himself to go out and find work. He suffered from a major bout of depression and had dealt with depression for many years. I remember the first time it became apparent to me. It was after a long, hard attempt at a new career path that didn't quite work out as well as we had hoped. He would go through phases of this depression, sometimes okay, sometimes reserved and secluding himself from the world.
Anyway, this particular run was lasting far longer than I could bear. I was working full time, doing all the chores, mini side work here and there and we still weren't covering all the bills. So I eventually crumbled from the weight and decided I couldn't handle it any longer. I couldn't carry both of us for that long.
I care very deeply for him. I like to think I was not cold and cruel. I got a room mate to help with costs, but allowed him to stay at the house for a while to figure out what to do with himself. But I also needed to figure out what to do with myself.
After some deliberation, I chose to go back to school. I was sick of being in retail and having the basis of my career be to convince people to buy more stuff that they probably didn't really need. I decided I would like to become a math teacher. That seemed like a noble career. Something I could be proud to tell people I do for a living. And I quite enjoyed math in high school and my year of college.
Yes! School it is! I have nothing holding me back. No partner to compromise with. But how to afford this... even with a roommate I was barely covering my bills working full time. It's all that debt I had accumulated from my business... Well, the idea that I wasn't limited to staying in Nanaimo was brought forth by a good friend of mine when I mentioned the idea of school. So I asked my sister in Edmonton how she would feel about me moving in with her. She gets a free babysitter here and there and I get cheap accommodation while I attempt to better myself. She was ecstatic at the idea! Okay! Off to Edmonton I go!
Well I moved in with her a few months later. The move was extremely hard. I was leaving behind a good number of very good friends to go somewhere I didn't really want to be to do something rather scary and to do it all by myself. Yes, I had my sister, but this was the first time that I had ever been single, really. I'd always had a partner to lean on when I needed. Now I was going to a strange city all by myself.
It proved a difficult adjustment. I was lonely. Extremely lonely. My sister and her kids felt more like an invasion of personal space (in both directions) than support. I was alone. I tried to get out and meet people. But I found the city atmosphere not quite as warm and welcoming as the smaller communities I had lived in previously. I began to experience darkness that I had never known before...
You know that feeling when you just wake up from a bad dream? Right before you realize that everything is okay and that you are, in fact, safe in your own bed? Yeah that feeling. Now imagine that basically all the time. I knew in my head that my life wasn't bad. I had lots of people who cared about me. A roof over my head. Food in my belly. And yet... all I wanted was for everything to just end. Because nothingness seemed so much more peaceful than this complete loss. The loneliness. The fight to just keep going every day. The lack of purpose and direction. The constant bombardment of another thing going wrong. Just end... stop.
Well things got a little better when my mom moved in with us. My mother is an amazing woman and I felt comforted by her presence. But even after we moved to a bigger house that was supposed to accommodate us all, I still felt like I was invading her and my sister's space, and felt rather ashamed to be mooching off my family, especially since it seemed to bring me no freedom of my own. I felt trapped. Weak. Overwhelmed. So I decided to move out.
It just so happened that a friend of mine, who just happened to be living in Edmonton, just happened to be in search of a roommate. Well it suited me just fine. We coordinated some ground rules, and I moved in shortly thereafter. This was great for the most part. She was an absolute sweetheart, if a little quirky.
School started a week after the move. Well what a slap in the face! It had been eight long years since the last time I did any schooling. I couldn't believe how much I had forgotten. The enormous campus with seas of people were intimidating, to say the least. I was only in three classes, but I could not find the time, between work and class, to get my homework done.
I broke. What a friggin' year and now that I finally get into school, which was the entire point of this endeavour, I can't even handle it! Well I went in tears to a counsellor at the university. He suggested looking at all that was on my plate and deciding what to keep and what to drop because it clearly did not all fit! I wound up dropping two of my three classes. I didn't want to quit altogether, but school was the ball I cold no longer juggle.
But with a ball dropped, I still was not holding myself together very well. With constant health problems plaguing me, I was also in and out of a doctor's office regularly. One day, I went in and wound up breaking into tears in front of my doctor. They suggested antidepressant medication. I was ready to try anything to help get myself through each day.
Well that night I took my first pill. The next morning, I got up and showered as per usual, only to find myself waking up from the base of the bathtub with the warm water pounding on me to the sounds of my roommate banging on the bathroom door and yelling, "Are you okay?!" I went to the hospital, after passing out a couple more times trying to get to the door to open it. I spent half a day in a hospital bed crying, wishing I had someone there to hold my hand. But I was still alone...
So here I am... The antidepressants are still part of my daily routine, a couple months later. And I'm feeling like myself again. School is still hard, but I'm still going. I am now starting to meet some people and get out and socializing like the butterfly I am. I'm not overly impressed that I have to rely on drugs to get me through it, but it is definitely better than the alternative. Oh! And I moved again. (For those of you keeping track, that is move number four this year.) I am now in a basement suite. Currently by myself, though I am only renting one of two rooms. The other one will likely be filled soon. No hard feelings with my roommate! She just had to move, so I decided to no longer be a burden to her.
Yeah, so that is my experience over the last year and a half. It's been a rough go. Plus... you know... David Bowie died... and no one wants to hear that news! Rest in peace, Goblin King!
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