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Diary of a Twenty-Something: 03.26.18.

March 26, 2018



I know why it’s called seasonal depression— because when you drag yourself through cold, gray, and miserable weather for five months, you start taking on the properties of it. 


That’s how I feel— cold, gray, and miserable. My depression has been quite good to me this year. Since my anxiety decided to embody itself in the form of an eating disorder, that has been my primary battle. My depression joined the party during the holidays (as it always has, since my parents moved abroad), but it left me in time for the New Year. 


I can feel it knocking on my door again. I don’t want it to come in, but I fear that if I don’t unlock the door, it’ll smash a window instead. I haven’t yet figured out how to board up my walls. 


Japan was wonderful— I spent quality time with my parents, relaxed for a couple weeks, and enjoyed the warmer weather that Tokyo had to offer. But then I immediately got thrown back into the chaos of school, and the cold, miserable winter weather of Minnesota. The juxtaposition would be comical, if it didn’t break me. 


I often think of my body as a holiday party, and my depression, my anxiety, and my eating disorder are these annoying relatives that you can’t seem to uninvite. I hate them, but they are a part of the family. I wish I wasn’t like this.


I need warm weather. I need warm weather like I’ve never needed warm weather before— or at least haven’t needed since last winter, when I had the same mental breakdown around this time. 


I’m looking outside right now, and the world looks cold and dead— that’s how I feel. I am collaborating with all of these companies, trying to create spring appropriate looks for the warmer weather to come, but it’s so hard to get excited for a season that you don’t feel. My creativity has hit a wall. 


I thought I had buried my angst with my sixteen year old mind, but she’s still with me. Just another annoying relative that I can’t uninvite. 


It probably doesn’t help that I’m miserably sick right now— what a week. 


I looked at apartments yesterday with my boyfriend. I desperately need to move into a new space. I need something to make me feel alive again. I need something new. I need inspiration. I need spring. 


I hate myself for being like this. I just got home from Japan. I am going to New York City in May with my best friend. I am looking at apartments this week. I have no reason to complain. Mental health is such a bitch. 


I can’t uninvite her either. 

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