The past two weeks have been so stressful. Ups and downs, and so much stress, and anxiously awaiting a decision that was supposed to be made last Wednesday and about which I still haven’t heard. Two weeks ago, I was an emotional mess at a friend, and then things got better with his response because he’s magical like that. Then I made plans, and then those plans got discarded, and then I made more plans, and then those, too, fell through. And each time my plans don’t work out, it’s a little harder.
I still don’t know when I’m moving back to Chicago (might be this fall!). I still don’t know when I’m having surgery (going to be postponed indefinitely if I move back to Chicago). I still don’t know how this current job is going to work out. And I have absolutely no clue what I’m doing with my life (but I hear that’s common for people in their twenties, especially for people in their early twenties. Thoughts?).
Everything just seems especially intense and frustrating and annoying and high-stakes. And incredibly difficult. Sometimes bleak, like things just won’t work out. And above all, stressful. Maybe it’s because I don’t handle leaving places/communities I love well, and having left Chicago wears at me everyday, despite the good things here. Maybe it’s because my body is trying to figure out what the heck to do with all of the T now circulating through my body. Maybe it’s because I’m so exhausted, and my job is not exactly revitalizing to the soul (or rather, to mine, anyway).
I don’t know what it is, just that things keep getting me down, and I keep feeling like a mess. On the plus side, my mom is supportive beyond what I have words to express. Also, I have really great friends, and Facebook and email can be surprisingly good sources of comfort, support, and awesomeness. So I guess I’ll muddle through somehow. Or as the Beatles song puts it, I’ll “get by with a little help from my friends.”