Things Fall Apart

In my senior year of high school, I had to read a book called "Things Fall Apart" in my AP Lit class. The book was about a guy named Okonkwo in a village in Africa whose world crumbles around him in a matter of a few weeks. He had it all going for him; he was a village elder, had three wives, a son who was blessed by the oracle and plenty of land to farm on. And then the English come to colonize. He goes nuts, accidentally kills the son of a fellow tribesman, his son leaves the religion of his people and becomes a Christian, Okonkwo and his wives are banished for 7 years because of his crime, and he eventually kills murders the English missionaries and then kills himself.

It's ironic. That class, I can say without a shadow of a doubt in my mind, was the best class I've ever taken, and do believe ever will take. It stretched my mind beyond even what I thought I could think, and made me think abstractly and completely out of the box. But in the second semester, it seemed that every book we read lined up with what was going on in my life at the time. When we started the semester, we started this book. At the beginning of that semester, I wouldn't have changed a thing about my life. It was going perfect. By the time Okonkwo's world was falling apart, mine started to too. All the preconceived notions I had of how my senior year should look like were quickly becoming wisps of dreams, thrown to the wind, left unattended and soon forgotten. We read Hamlet, which is the story of a tortured man eager to change the world around him. I could relate very well with Hamlet. We read poems and short stories, all of which seemed to seriously align with where my life was. But the one I definitely remember the most was the story of Okonwo.

I feel like that now. Obviously not on the same extreme levels that Okonkwo was feeling, but it always seems that just when things are finally starting to work out, my whole world falls apart and I'm left at square one, at the bottom of the pit, and I can't find a way out.

I've been told for the last seven or eight years that I showed signs of depression, which I never believed, or, never wanted to. I finally went into a counseling session to find out if I do or not. I've officially been diagnosed with mild to moderate depression, which in itself is depressing. I don't know why I feel like this sucks so much. I guess it's just one of those things that seems like I always thought I could overcome it myself. But I can't. I've never wanted to be one of those people who had to go talk to someone else about the crap in their life. I've always dealt with it myself. But I guess you can only yell at someone for no apparent reason other than just to yell so many times before it becomes obvious there is a problem.

I didn't get the internship I've dreamed about to get me into a position at Starbucks Corporate in my dream city; I didn't get into Fresno State; I can't even afford Fresno State; I'm living at home....again.....for now, a year longer than I expected to; I'm worried about the people I care about the most; my dad is hanging onto yet another job he works his ass off for, and his bosses are completely undeserving and ungrateful for him; I've already lost one parent, I'm terrified of what will happen if I lose my dad; my mom only lived to 48, what if I do too? My list can go on. Yes, I work at Starbucks. Yes, my mistakes have led to a few positive things. Yes, I'm getting at least something to prove I went to COS. Yes, I can save up, move out and get to college. Yes, I'm only 22 and still have my whole life ahead of me. But whats the point? Whats the point if, in an instant, everything, literally everything can fall apart in the blink of an eye? Why do I keep trying and keep applying and keep hoping for things that I know without any doubt in my mind will just disappoint me in the long run, or even short run?

I've had three dreams in my life: to be a wife and mother, finish college with at least my BA, and live in Seattle. None of those are even near coming true. None of those are even in my grasp anymore. None of those seem to even be a factor in my life, as none of them are unattainable. I can't help but literally give up hoping anymore. Every time I've ever hoped for anything, it's ended up hurting me more than making me happy. I can honestly say without any doubt that the only exception to this was when I got my job at Starbucks. But even there..... I was training to become a shift supervisor, literally running shifts and learning what I needed to know....and then my world fell apart...and I handled it wrong. Then, by the time I was actually ready to promote again, my manager got fired. Then, our co-manager started training me, giving me resources and tools, and coaching me and actually set up an interview for me. Our District Manager flaked, and I didn't get my interview, and then we got our new manager. I love her to death, but I'll never promote under her. She's not interested in training anyone new. She wants to hire people who have already been trained. Which I get. But it just means that I have no hope of getting anywhere near where I want to be as long as I'm still living in Visalia.

Yeah, its a rant. But that's all I can do anymore. All that deep thinking and analytical breakdown I used to be able to do is gone. All that seems to be left are my survival skills, and sometimes I even wonder about those. Surviving doesn't even seem to be enough anymore.

Have you ever been on a mountain trail, high up and far away from anyone, lost without a map?

Welcome to my life.