Studies Show That Everything is Terrible
I was already under the impression that the state of the world was pretty terrible. I don’t think Bradbury or Orwell, even with their literary merit, could’ve conjured up a dystopian world quite like the one we’re currently experiencing. As America continues to re-open, I’ve come to the harrowing realization that all the coping mechanisms and everything I worked for in quarantine interpersonally went down the toilet, along with my hope for the future. Trump’s election into office back in 2016 hallmarked a new chapter for America, something eerily similar to the prologue of a post-apocalyptic novel, and it’s not lost on me that 2020 is officially the first chapter. This year’s mantra is: “it’s okay that I’m not okay, and it’s okay that I don’t know if or when I’ll be okay again.” Each month is like catatonically awaiting the next catastrophic event. Mantras can only keep me tied over for so long.
I’m kind of annoyed. I eat well. I work out. I rest. I stay on top of my responsibilities. I do my skincare routine. I make time for friends. I take time to connect with nature. Like, how many licks of healthy coping mechanisms does it take to get to the center of radical self-love, optimism, and a renewed hope for the future? No amount of self-care can change the fact that everything is terrible right now. I don’t think I can possibly get more help than I’ve sought out. I’ve been in therapy for over three years. I have two emotional support animals. I’m a writer — I am constantly verbalizing how I feel and think whether it’s on a digital medium or whatever random notepad is sporadically available to me. Trust, a girl knows how to journal. I’m perfectly aware of how I’m feeling: every day is an existential nightmare. Sure, I can wean off of my media consumption but it doesn’t change the fact that both the physical world and my inner world are deteriorating and it seems to be out of my control.
Closing your eyes can only provide escapism for so long. How much more work do I have to do on myself? I feel like I’ve maxed out and it still isn’t enough. I’m exhausted. Peace and contentment seem to be lightyears away and I feel like a hamster stuck on its wheel in the void.
All that being said, here’s my personal testimony of why everything is terrible:
1.) I quit my job in the midst of a global pandemic.
I still have my other job but I recently had to quit the job that was my main source of income as a college student. I’ve always been the type to bite off more than I can chew, global pandemic or not. Logically, it wasn’t the soundest financial decision but I knew it was the right thing to do for my mental health. I started having really bad panic attacks when I was there. Like, so bad I had to run to the bathroom to vomit. It happened on more than one occasion. It wasn’t my job’s fault. I’m just prone to generalized anxiety and I’ve been on the verge of a nervous breakdown for a minute. All I know is that I’m really going to miss them.
2.) I ruined my tires the other day.
The other day, I was having such a bad panic attack where I didn’t even feel remotely connected to the physical world. I forced myself to look in the mirror and said, “I need to get out of my house. I need to go into nature.” Nature fixes everything, in case you didn’t know. I was on my way to my favorite hiking spot when I began to have another panic attack while driving. I accidentally ran myself off the road. I destroyed my tires and not in that cute, funny, recurring meme way about how girls hit too many curbs to get from point A to point B. The natural world went full Freddy Kreuger on my tires. I had to call my dad. He was like, “What happened?” I didn’t have an answer. I still don’t. My Honda Fit deserves better.
3.) The only physical solace I have now is this cheap brand of low-carb ice cream.
This ice cream is literally the best part of my day. It’s still 16 grams of carbs for two-thirds of a cup but I guess that’s pretty good in the grand scheme of ice cream. The number of carbs in commercial ice cream brands slightly traumatize me. I think carbs give me more anxiety than calories do now. I’d much rather sell out for the calories in nut butters than the carbs in a serving size of oatmeal. I can’t help but feel super Y2K watching my carb intake. But if low-rise jeans make a comeback then it’s most definitely the end of the world.
4.) My Twitter drafts have become my personal diary.
I love the sense of self that I get from my Twitter drafts. I feel at home when I’m scrolling through them. It’s where I feel most connected to my subconscious. I love verbalizing what I’m feeling and then never sending it out into the world. It’s kind of a power move. I actually made a secondary Twitter account to trash-post on. Serotonin release from pressing the ‘send’ button is a real thing. It’s like cyber nicotine addiction. I have to watch myself. Like, yeah, projecting my inner-world into my Twitter drafts is going ok. Ultimately, there is more to life than trash-posting on the internet (but I wouldn’t know).
5.) I’ve resorted to listening to all the albums I used to listen to back in high school when I was at the height of my identity crisis.
High school was one of my lowest points. I’m going to body that trauma forever. My little sister almost died from cancer. People were so atrocious that I lost my sense of self and turned to an eating disorder for comfort. I used to lay on the floor of my bedroom when I got home from school and listen to the same few albums over and over because I didn’t feel at home inside myself. I lost all sense of what I thought, how I felt, and who I was, so I let the same albums do the talking for me. There’s a certain comfortable nostalgia about your favorite adolescent records. Though it makes me wonder, am I listening to these albums because I’m longing for the seemingly superficial problems of adolescence that are a stark contrast to the current state of the world? Or is it because lately, I’ve been feeling similarly cyclothymic to the way I did in high school, and these old albums are helping me chronicle that?
6.) I’ve lost count of how many internet quizzes I’ve taken.
Astrological personality quizzes, career quizzes, Buzzfeed quizzes, mental health screening tests; you name it, I’ve probably taken it recently. When it feels like you have no answers in life, take an internet quiz. It’ll temporarily stall the blaring vacantness of the great unknown. You’re a Virgo? Here’s a comprehensive guide to your worst personality traits. You like to observe nature? You could maybe be a botanist or something. You have crippling anxiety, frequently have dissociative episodes, and feel constant chronic emptiness? You should probably seek psychiatric help. The accessibility of information on the internet has provided me everything but a core sense of self. In fact, there have been moments when it’s stripped me of it. The internet is kind of like a higher power. It’s physical and digital but also omniscient and omnipresent. It gives and takes. It’s multifaceted. That’s why I like internet quizzes — they give me a sense of self and direction in a tangible way that I can actually process even though it’s only for like, two minutes.
7.) I developed an allergy to my cross necklace so I guess that makes me agnostic now.
Even the physical representation of Christianity wants nothing to do with me. Am I really that bad? It’s like, “Girl, you are beyond saving, take me off of you,” and I’m itching my neck like, “No, please, I’d like something to believe in,” and it’s like, “Ok? Still can’t be me. Try agnosticism since you’re really good at not believing in yourself or anything. GTG.” This is like the fourth cross necklace I’ve gone through this year. The first three broke without reason. Now I’m allergic to this one. Am I beyond saving or am I having an epiphany (no religious pun intended)? In all honesty, I haven’t identified with Christianity for a while. I guess my necklace was right: I don’t know what to believe anymore, about anything or myself. The prospect of believing in something is a nice idea. I could use a little faith. It’d be cool if my spirit could have a sense of belonging. Soul searching sounds like it could bring good vibes.
8.) What even is this presidential election?
It feels like the current state of American politics is being generated by the predictive text feature of my iPhone. You can’t make any of this up. If you would’ve told me six years ago that Donald Trump would be president, Kanye West would suddenly insert himself into the 2020 election, Joe Biden would be the blundering democratic nominee, all while there is civil unrest in American cities, in the midst of a global pandemic, I’m not sure I would believe you. The only thing I can get behind right now is that I can’t get behind any of the candidates. America needs major structural reform. Too bad all our options are dumpster fire. The College Dropout used to be one of my favorite albums. Now, I’m emailing Spotify customer support like, “Hey, how do I block Kanye West on your platform?”
On the bright side, I’ve recently learned that science isn’t able to accurately gauge what percentage of reality we actually perceive, so that’s kind of inspiring. We all have our own perceptions of reality. I hope your perceptions are better than mine, and I hope our collective perception of this year is just some weird fever dream and not actually rooted in ‘reality.’ I really hope none of this is real. Because if it is, then the physical world is really not okay. My hope is that we can find some semblance of okayness in the aftermath of all this (that is, if anything is real at all). But let’s say it is real: sometimes everything is so terrible and so surreal that you need to make tough decisions and get help, and sometimes you need to allow yourself to be vulnerable enough to do so, and that is okay, and you’re going to be more than okay once you accept it.
