This past few weeks of writing has rendered me emotionally exhausted. Writing forces me look closely at situations, relationships, etc., which helps to clarify things. But it also brings up both repressed and suppressed feelings, which has initiated this rollercoaster. Writing about my marriage brought up feelings I didn’t know I’d suppressed, things I had already known innately long before the divorce, things I’d been denying.
My emotions are in turmoil this week. Eliminating alcohol isn’t helping as much as I thought it would, except that my mind is clearer. Big deal. Now I get to think about everything I don’t want to think about, and it’s like a fucking barreling train that won’t stop. Shouldn’t I feel much better than this after five or six months of cutting out alcohol? I felt better than this on my off-days when I was still drinking.
I am depressed to the point that I’m about to ask my doctor for an antidepressant, which is the absolute last resort, because I fucking hate pills, especially ones that I’m unsure will be a solution. I haven’t been consistent and changed brands of probiotics, which I’m hoping has something to do with this onset of depression. Time will tell, and if I remember to take it daily, I should notice a difference within a few days or a week.
The more I stay home, the more I want to move elsewhere.
My privacy is limited, and although I don’t live in an apartment, it’s sort of like one, because my neighbors are under the same roof. Plus, they’re older and retired and home most of the time. They’re great neighbors, but I really need a lot more privacy. Sometimes I wake up in the morning still in my pj’s (or less!) and open the back door, which is also my bedroom door, and there they are. Or I’ll be standing in my kitchen and there they are in front of my window. Or I pull up in my driveway and one of them runs out for something. The old guy is constantly staring, which is really weird and uncomfortable and annoying. It feels like I live next to my parents.
With working from home, the noise from more traffic, people’s dogs constantly barking, and whatever else seems to be happening that requires extremely loud equipment, I’m about to lose my fucking mind. Every single time I sit down to focus (on anything!), I get interrupted or distracted by all of it. Once I get distracted or interrupted too many times, I completely lose my process. And that frustrates the living shit out of me, anxiety kicks in, and then I’m unable to meet my goals. I love working from home, but I need some fucking peace and quiet!
The more I leave my house, the more I want to move elsewhere.
Not only the rest of the state, but also my little town is exploding with the type of growth that makes it more populated than the type of place I want to live. I no longer enjoy going to a lot of the places I used to, even in nature, because there are just too many people, not to mention the traffic fiasco. All of it gives me terrible anxiety. And it’s only going to get worse.
While I was driving home today, I saw someone I recognized that I wouldn’t expect to see near my house (the wife of an asshole). It’s the second or third time this happened. It triggered memories that I did not want to think about, that I’ve worked very hard not to think about. I feel like I can’t go anywhere without triggering memories (a big reason why I stay home 90% of the time).
And so I just spent the last couple of hours crying and writing intermittently, because it dawned on me that I have no good memories from living here the past several years. I cannot even think of the last good memory I have (living here). That’s not to say that I haven’t had good times, because I have. However, remembering those times sucks because of who I was with, and remembering them either makes me sad or want to puke. So no – no good memories, because good memories are ones I want to think about.
I am seriously considering getting the fuck out of this town as soon as possible, which may take another year. I have nothing in mind as to where I want to be or where I’d go, but I’m open to explore. All I know is I can’t stay in this unhealthy paradise-turned-hell-hole any longer. I need to make good, healthy memories somewhere I feel safe.
Free The Burden 
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