my gap year of self-inflicted misery
I'm currently on a gap year; half on purpose, half because I missed application deadlines for master's courses because I graduated a couple months late. I had wild plans for this year — get a job, travel, maybe save up enough to study abroad next year, make more music, read and write more, do everything I'd never had time for when studying full time. And as months passed (5 now, to be exact) I realised that maybe the lack of time wasn't the only thing stopping me from doing all these things I supposedly wanted to do so much for so long.
Some of these are out of my control. I've been trying to find a job since summer, to no avail. Most of the time, I'm not even applying for any good jobs, I'm trying to get a part-time hospitality or retail job and it feels like some impossible, sisyphean task. At one point, I showed almost everyone in my life my CV asking if maybe I'm accidentally doing something wrong and it's all my fault. Unfortunately, there wasn't one, easily fixable mistake and so I keep sending job applications to every job opening that seems even remotely tolerable to me. So, since I'm not really making any money, I can't really save up or go travelling the world.
As another result of that, I have literally nothing going on in life. Being the jobless friend who does fuck all every day seemed great in theory, but it's become torturous. I'm bored, every day is the same and it's definitely not helping my depressive episode. Not that I necessarily yearn for employment, that's torturous in its own way, but I do yearn for a routine and a purpose. Seeing friends every now and then (not often, as most of them live in the city, where I went to uni) and having no real answer to questions about what I've been up to is genuinely a bit embarrassing. But it's true, I spend most days doing the same few things, which aren't particularly exciting or worth talking about.
Now, you might say 'Nat you can build your own routine and do all those things you never had time to do!' And to that I raise you: I am world's least disciplined person. I genuinely cannot force myself to do anything that I don't care about (or apparently even that I do care about) unless there are negative consequences that outweigh the benefit of not doing it. I can't get myself to get out of bed before 1pm if I don't absolutely have to be somewhere. And is that flaw I could work on? Sure. Yeah. Mhm. I definitely will, like I promised myself, how many times now? 100? I really don't know how to get myself to actually do the things I want to do. (And I don't know how much I can blame depression for my overall state of not doing much at all.)
Sometimes I start doubting if I even actually care about the things I claim to love. Making music, reading, writing. The thing is, once I'm already doing them I really enjoy it, especially with writing songs, it's something so special to me. But getting myself to roll out of bed and find the motivation to even pick up a book seems unachievable half the time.
All of this had made me want to actually have a new year's resolution this year — to actually start doing the things I want to. Maybe start simple, watch a movie every week, read two books every month, practice the guitar an hour a day. So far I haven't really been following these, but I guess the only thing I can do is keep trying. Maybe I can find a way to motivate myself through positive reinforcement instead of only being motivated by the fear of negative consequences; stop punishing myself for failing to live up to my own expectations and start rewarding myself when I actually do something I care about. Maybe sometimes, I need to treat myself like a puppy, or just a human child, I guess, though seeing myself as a puppy is way more appealing.
There will always be an excuse to do something later, but it's also always the right time to start.
Comments
Post a Comment