I saw an old video clip featuring Adam Sandler sketch from Saturday Night Live this week. It was a travel commercial parody about Italy. It’s main focus was the single premise; Of you’re not happy at home, you won’t be happy here.
https://www.facebook.com/reel/1441302373301209?mibextid=9drbnH&s=yWDuG2&fs=e
This is a well done mockery of depression that I can chuckle at. It’s a situation I currently find myself in. I purged everything I own to move to a happier place, but I’m still me. The landscape vistas may be gorgeous, and the bedroom may have air conditioning, and I may access home cooked meals, an actual usable shower and washer/dryer, but none of these things change who I am, and up my mood.
I kind of knew this before I made the decision to uproot my life and make the somewhat spontaneous change. I wasn’t happy staying in my hot bedroom with bed bugs and a spontaneously angry housemate with overly controlling rules, but the situation and environment were not the basis for many, if not most of my mental distress.
I admit, I needed to leave. It wasn’t a happy environment. I needed change, but deep down I knew the changes I need were not all location based. It became apparent almost instantly upon arrival that this new paradise was just a refreshed setting for my continual sadness and self worth issues.
I instantly found new things to internally complain about. Imperfections I could blame for my unhappiness unfairly.
There are so many things to be joyful about this new chapter to my life story including my inclusion in this supportive family. I still stay inside my room and sit on my phone half the day, splitting the other half between naps and a small portion of actual computer work.
I still bring with me all the guilt of the shitty way I ended things in Niagara and new guilt formed around my inactivity in a household that is always busy with tasks I have yet to offer help towards.
My brain conjures up how I sense my depression and isolation is disappointing and frustrating to the new people who graciously offered up yet another no-cost location for me to hide in.
Surely I can’t be what they expected. This is an active farm with my sister’s husband doing all the hard farm labour every day, seemingly non stop from sunrise to sunset. I watched his morning tasks once and even as a spectator, felt exhausted at the thought of helping.
My sister has a day job and works equally constantly and then does the laundry and meals and her second job running an active show dog breeding business.
I stay in my bedroom and every now and then reluctantly venture upstairs to eat an elaborate home-cooked meal I would prefer not to. My food choices are an additional irritant. The conflict (mostly in my head) is cause for additional guilt. Tomorrow will be my third Friday and already I am feeling bad enough about doing nothing to earn my keep that the resentment I believe I’m creating will force me deeper into unhappiness.
If I can get a handle on it and share my feelings, imay be able to overcome. I need some therapy and understanding from my new family. I want them to say it’s ok, but I know it’s not. I should be offering help. I should be getting help. I should be helpful. Useful. It’s the right choice for me and then.
It’s just so hard. I can blame my routine, but it’s really just me. I can blame my ADHD but that is still me.
Sadly I seem to be ok with blaming me. They say knowing you have a problem is the first step to solving it, but if you accept the problem and stop there, you never progress and eventually I become content with that.
I was content with my last life for three years. I don’t like coasting, but it’s easier than doing anything about it.
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