For the first time in my life, I know real stress. I am losing clumps of hair, my stomach is constantly in some state of turmoil and my teeth are tender from having my jaw clenched most hours of the day.
I hate my job, but I hate the idea of finding a new one. I’ve lost touch with any tiny creative outlet I had. I work in my apartment all day which is sucking away my will to ever leave it. I’m not happy with how I act or how I look. I’m pretty much lost in most aspects of my life and it’s causing me true, legit stress. The kind of stress I never understood.
There’s a sense of relief identifying it, but a terrifying feeling follows because I have no idea how or when I’ll be normal again.
I’ve reached the age where a hangover is a full day production. Gone are the days of feeling better by pounding a bottle of gatorade or inhaling a cheeseburger. There are no more miracles. The light of my youth has been extinguished and I’ve been left in a dark, headache-y, nauseous, crampy, exhausted world.
People keep moving out of my building so the part of me that loves to worry myself to death about things I can’t control is convinced that they are raising the rent on renewals to some astronomical amount and I can’t afford that and I don’t want to move and I love our apartment and now I have an ulcer.