I seem to be struggling with fulfillment in my life. I fine the routine of spending the majority of my week for the little money I make to be distinctly not worth my time. I've been asking around to older friends of mine if this is what life is like outside of school. If chasing the minor rewards is as good as it gets.
I find myself lying to people. Not about anything large, but just when people ask me about how my life is. It is becoming relevant as I happen upon my one year anniversary of moving to Seattle. People no doubt ask me if I'm happy, if I'm satisfied, do I regret the move, etc. My natural reaction is to rant and rave about how awesome the place is, and it is. I love the city, and the people in it. I love the privileges I'm given by not having to live in the South anymore. There are some things that I miss, mainly the people I knew/loved back in Texas, but that aside, there isn't much to regret. But, my feelings are double sided. Not in my location, but just in life, at the moment feels very unfulfilled and pointless. Not that I've ever had a point to go on, or reason to continue, outside of fear. I find myself asking if this is what people do, they go to work doing whatever for the majority of their week, then they come home for two days off a week to do some meaningless task, and repeat the process again indefinitely, and for what?
A house? A car? more bullshit consumerism of things that I neither car about or need at the moment. I know the simple answer is to find a position that is more fulfilling, something I'm a bit stuck on until I get a few more years of experience under my belt. The alternative is to that often given is to find a hobby or things I enjoy doing. I have those, they just don't feel like a raison d'etre. They don't make going to work for the majority of my life worth it.
I don't believe it is an esteem issue, or an image issue, it seems more a disillusionment issue. Life up to this point has been a progression. This school to do that, then this school to that for whatever reasons, and on and on. Now, with no other clear goals, I find myself wondering what the point of it all was, just to do some meaningless bullshit for a meager wage and very little of my own free time to do the little things that I do enjoy.
I know these symptoms of depression, and I don't care for them. The numbness, while comfortable and familiar, encourages self-mutilation. Unfortunately, I don't see the clear remedy to this issue like I have in the past.
I find myself lying to people. Not about anything large, but just when people ask me about how my life is. It is becoming relevant as I happen upon my one year anniversary of moving to Seattle. People no doubt ask me if I'm happy, if I'm satisfied, do I regret the move, etc. My natural reaction is to rant and rave about how awesome the place is, and it is. I love the city, and the people in it. I love the privileges I'm given by not having to live in the South anymore. There are some things that I miss, mainly the people I knew/loved back in Texas, but that aside, there isn't much to regret. But, my feelings are double sided. Not in my location, but just in life, at the moment feels very unfulfilled and pointless. Not that I've ever had a point to go on, or reason to continue, outside of fear. I find myself asking if this is what people do, they go to work doing whatever for the majority of their week, then they come home for two days off a week to do some meaningless task, and repeat the process again indefinitely, and for what?
A house? A car? more bullshit consumerism of things that I neither car about or need at the moment. I know the simple answer is to find a position that is more fulfilling, something I'm a bit stuck on until I get a few more years of experience under my belt. The alternative is to that often given is to find a hobby or things I enjoy doing. I have those, they just don't feel like a raison d'etre. They don't make going to work for the majority of my life worth it.
I don't believe it is an esteem issue, or an image issue, it seems more a disillusionment issue. Life up to this point has been a progression. This school to do that, then this school to that for whatever reasons, and on and on. Now, with no other clear goals, I find myself wondering what the point of it all was, just to do some meaningless bullshit for a meager wage and very little of my own free time to do the little things that I do enjoy.
I know these symptoms of depression, and I don't care for them. The numbness, while comfortable and familiar, encourages self-mutilation. Unfortunately, I don't see the clear remedy to this issue like I have in the past.
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