As I’ve gotten older, I have found that I am more and more profoundly depressed. I moved to Philadelphia in 2010, trying to get away from the high stress environment of New York. I found myself unemployed and without a friend base. Two years later, I’m underemployed and lacking any real friends besides my co-workers, and a few people I’ve met through my two jobs. My current employment situation, working security for CCP has me charged with the unenviable task of dwelling in my feelings for 8 hours a day, Friday through Sunday. I try not to go there, but there is very little else to do. During my first year, I figured out a piece of the puzzle that has been my relationship with my father- a story for another time. During my second year, I was able to bury my head in the metaphoric sand that was my Kindle. I read hundreds of self published chick lit and romance novels, finally kicking my Harlequin habit after 13 years. I even started writing my great American novel.
This year, a few things have become apparent to me. The fake happy that I was last year was fleeting. I am still depressed. An incident between myself and my mother threw me out of my “happy facade,” and sank me firmly back into my depressing reality. You might ask what that has to do with my social media presence. I never compare myself to other people. I do however envy those who can navigate the interwebs and find their lane. At the same time, I just want to find my people. I’m not #teamnatural or #teamweave, I’m not a hood chick with a high body count or a hoe coach. There is only so much ignorance and poorly spelled words I can take, and I have a ratchet quota that is filled daily. Where does that leave me? I’m bored with Facebook, I don’t want to keep in touch with my high school friends anymore, high school was fun, but it’s over. I’m a shy introvert, who doesn’t want to be. Unfortunately, I can’t fake the funk. I’m in a funk that I can’t escape. I’m not afraid to ask for help, but in a situation like this, who do I ask?
I think I need a mentor.
