Just what the internet needs

Another blog about depression and it’s fallout on someone’s life. Of course. And of course, it has to be a 20-something single chick. It figures.

But here’s the thing: I can’t write about this shit on my regular blog. It’s only semi-anonymous, and also really mostly deals with the parts of my life that everyone sees. It deals with the place I live, and my profession. My family and friends read it; in fact, it started as a way to keep up with my life for people who were far away. Despite keeping it pretty private and out of the search engines, it ended up with more readers than people I know, so some people are reading it. I think probably mostly they are people in my profession, which is supposed to be one of those demanding ones. It is cheerful and funny, and the voice of the author is that of my alter-ego, the brave, confident woman I wish I were. Sometimes, the lie is so real that I forget who I am.

So here’s who I am: a 28 year old girl/woman…well, probably I have to say woman now. I am in a profession that is considered “professional,” demanding, and competitive. For all intents and purposes, I live a charmed life. I am not a great beauty, but I am pretty. I am good at what I do, and lots of my friends in the field envy how easy they think it is for me (it’s not, but I am good at making it look like it is, more on this later). My life, on the surface, does not look fucked up. I have never been in a mental hospital, or even any other kind. I have no chronic disease. I do not use drugs or drink. My boyfriend is boring; he loves me and treats me well.

It would probably surprise most everyone I know, then, to find out that I have spent most of my life suicidal, for as long as I can remember.

I’m not even sure I’m really depressed in the classic sense. I mean, I don’t have all the symptoms – sometimes I have sleeping trouble, but I sleep a lot too. I tend to overeat. Good things happen to me, although most of the time I don’t feel good about them, but sometimes life is so sweet I almost can’t bear it. I don’t just sit on the couch and veg. I meet my deadlines, professional ones at least. I’m not a walking zombie. I don’t remember what all are the rest of the signs, but I don’t have them all and certainly not all the time.

I guess I’m just sad a lot. Or tired. Sometimes it all – this whole mortal coil, from genocide to an untied shoelace, seem too much to deal with. It’s been this way for as long as I can remember. I am just so very tired of it all. I need a permanent vacation or some other song lyric like that.

This is my secret, therapy blog. The one I don’t show everyone. The one where I tell the truth. I hope that by doing that, maybe someone will be out there and read it and feel better. Or that I’ll be able to figure something out about all this. But mostly, just to tell someone out there on the internet the truth. For five minutes, to not have to be super Sara but to be able to be stupid, sad sara. The one that no one wants to be around.


1 Comment

  1. I would always want to be around this Sara…

    love, Milo

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