Dear Depressed Person Who Can’t Find Meaning in Life Right Now

I struggle to live every single day, too.

Graphic by author. Meme by genius.

I can’t seem to fall asleep tonight. I’m wrestling with all the life choices I’ve made in the last decade, wondering where I went wrong, how I fucked myself over, and ended up here: Living in my childhood bedroom. For the last eight months, I’ve told my therapist I planned to redo my room. I told my therapist I planned to apply for these jobs and work out more and eat better. Now here I am, sitting on the same bed I slept on at six years old, and I’ve done none of that. Sure, I’ve applied to jobs I never heard back from. I worked out a handful of times and would swim every day when the weather was still nice. I even rearranged my childhood bedroom furniture, so the sunshine would hit my face instead of the back of my head. Still, I struggle to live every single day.

There are days I don’t even know how they went by and days when I don’t even know how or why I’m still here. I’m twenty-three years old, and it feels like I’m scrambling to find a semblance of meaning in this world. Just eight months ago, my life felt like it was just beginning. I was in my final semester of college, and everything looked bright. I wasn’t too worried about finding a job because I thought I’d eventually find one no problem. I’d pursued and achieved everything a recent grad was told to have: multiple internships under their belt, a fantastic GPA, and an active role on campus. If anything, I thought to myself, I wanted a couple of months off from school before starting a new job. Fuck me, am I right?

I also always said I would never move home unless it was the end of the world. What is the saying again? We plan, God laughs? Well, I say God is a sadist.

Right now, for many people like myself, life was supposed to feel full of hope and adventure. We were supposed to be finding jobs, living on our own, making new friends, and traveling, and now I can’t even find pleasure in falling asleep.

This is all seems like a way too personal of a pity blog to be a letter to a depressed person who can’t find meaning in life right now. It’s one in the morning, and I’m reminding myself why I needed to divulge here instead of a diary. People are so fake on the internet, and it’s so easy to compare yourself to the successes they share and remember you don’t have anything to share or be proud of. But I want you to know I am proud of you for waking up today. I am proud of you for getting up and opening a link to Medium because you wanted to learn something new today from someone who just poured their guts out on the internet or spent hours on research for an article they don’t even know if it’ll be read.

I am a young, dumb, mediocre twenty-something-year-old. Either you’re like me, you were like me, you’re becoming me, or you’re just better than us all. Either way, you know that I still have a lot to learn and a lot more to do here on this Earth (I hope). So far, I’ve found meaning in one win. One win that you can achieve and celebrate every single day. My win from today was I finished a draft for a story today. My win from the day before that was I got on a bike and exercised. Your success doesn’t need to be all at once. Your success doesn’t need to be defined by anyone else but yourself. Most of all, your success doesn’t even matter if you’re not truly happy with yourself. And damn it, go for a walk. You need and deserve the fresh air. It’s fucking free.

I love you. Take care of yourself. I’ll try to do the same.

Love,

Andie*

P.S. Please excuse any grammatical errors and leave me alone.

P.P.S. Follow me here on Medium or on the stupid bird app if you love, hate, or pity me, and especially if you want to talk about the new Animal Crossing update.

*Now go take a walk, even if it’s cold out. (And wear a mask!)

Culture + lifestyle writer covering entertainment, home living, and everything in between. Work featured in Bitch Media, Apartment Therapy, and more.

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