Jobless and Only Kinda Depressed

Some people spend their lives chasing goals. They’ll achieve something great and move right on to other greatness. I’m not one of them. I’ve had so few goals in my life. I wanted to do well on my AP tests in high school, at least the ones I thought I could do well on. I wanted to get into my first choice college. It was the only one I applied to fully, so that worked out. I wanted to graduate in June of 2014 and when that wasn’t going to pan out, I decided eh, 2014 at all is good enough. Then, I wanted to buy a house. So finally, here I sit, in the house I own, with my degree dated 2014 from that first choice college that the AP credits didn’t even end up counting into because actually taking the classes is way easier than taking some hard ass tests.

You can see the trend of academics in my life, right? That’s what I was good at. But how on Earth is a 20-something supposed to be good at academics without being a career student or being a broke child in an adult’s body?

I went out and got an office job, that's what we do, right? That dream we grew up being told to chase? Go to college, get a job, get married, get a house and a dog, get some kids, go off and die.

I did that for a while but then, a few months ago, something started feeling not right. If I’m honest, it started a few years ago, but that’s just me being petty and having a problem with being told what to do. No, this recent nagging in my head was my depressed brain telling me the first reasonable, useful thing ever.

Depression and I have been tight for years. My first therapist was in the 6th grade. So was my first attack of suicidal thoughts. I hated that therapist. We only met a handful of times but god, she made me feel horrible about myself, like I was wrong and broken and at fault.

Since then, I’ve seen a handful of others, taken so many different drugs that I honestly don’t remember them all, and have come to terms that there is real ES and depressed ES. There is also anxious ES, but she doesn’t show up in this story. This story is depressed es going to real ES one day, and saying that this isn’t good. All of this with the job I like except for (blank) and (blank), and the feeling okay about feeling like my company could not possibly care less about me. That wasn’t amusing, a funny anecdote to joke about not having to work very hard. It wasn’t fine accepting that my own boss was constantly asking me what I did.

No, real ES was just used to it and that is the saddest part of all. Sadder than depressed ES could ever be. And, in that moment, way, way, dumber. Turns out, and get ready for this hot take, having the 40 hours and the constant signing of birthday cards and a pretty paycheck, as nice as that last one is, might not all be worth it.

In truth, I’ve often thought my degree is actually a degree in finding out I didn’t want a degree. I considered taking a gap year and working or, honestly, anything, but that wasn’t the plan. Well, this little gap month(s) from work wasn’t the plan either, but taking my dog for a walk in the park across town at 10AM is pretty great. I mean, I’m hardly the first to look at the big picture and think, ‘Ah, would you look at that, us millennials and our job hoping and always looking for something better and wanting the best for ourselves because why not?’ Alert the presses.

Yes, now I do have odd jobs so I’m not a complete house-girlfriend/mooch, and I’m cool with it. The other day, I walked a tiny dog who probably has a larger net worth than me but shoot, her owner paid handsomely.

I won’t lie, everything isn’t perfect. Even though d-ES started all this, she still shows up, whispering in my ear that I ruined everything and whatever else. That is true enough. If only I was a trust fund baby who could retire at 25 and move to Bermuda to surf by day and sell all-natural, 100 percent vegan, cold-pressed, gluten-free coconut water to tourists by night? Shhhh, don’t tell them that it’s just regular old coconut water. For every extra sticker, it’s a 25 percent markup.

For now though, I will do things, whatever I can dig up, and that’ll mostly keep real ES at the surface. Maybe I’ll find something great and never have another boss who doesn’t know if I still even exist or if I was real to begin with? Maybe I’ll end up crazy broke and do the first thing that pops up and be back here again in a few years. Probably not though, anxious ES is great about never letting things get out of hand. Doesn’t even let the fingers loosen, God forbid. Is the goal now to try to find a job that makes me happy? That might be a little lofty for my standards, but I’ll keep it in mind.

"It’s all success if it’s what you need."—Tom Delonge, Angels and Airwaves