It’s time for a little honesty, people. I’ve been doing lots of things here in California. I’ve gone to a lot of fun places and posted lots of cool pictures, and made some of you jealous, just like I’d hoped. But I’ve been faking it. Well, maybe not all of it, but some of it. I guess I’ve been trying to convince myself as much as you. But let’s face it, the sunshine state is pretty gloomy in my neck of the redwoods sometimes.
I don’t know why I thought that moving to California would make everything just magically better. I honestly don’t know if I even realized that I did. But here I am, three months post-move, disappointed and depressed.
It’s not that there’s anything wrong with California. Santa Cruz and the surrounding area are absolutely beautiful and there are lots of fun and interesting things to do. There are stunning beaches and magnificent redwood trees and wonderful farmers markets. There is paddleboarding and major league baseball games and redwood canopy tours. But I’m beginning to realize that I didn’t move here for any of that.
I moved because I was running. I was running from a mistake I didn’t think I could recover from in Idaho. I was running from an entire life of introvertedness and honest depression. I ran, because I felt like it was the only real, tangible thing I could do.
And I wanted to come here, no doubt about it. It’s not as though anyone forced me against my will. When Robbie presented his options and asked what I wanted us to do, it was I who said we should go. He would have stayed. He did not drag me here. But I wanted to try something radically different in the hopes of changing my life for the better. So to California we went.
But it’s not been the giant fix-all that I apparently thought it would be. And why should it be? Moving to a new place for the first time, 800 miles from your family and friends and the only home you’ve ever known is going to be hard at first. Duh. That’s like having a baby to try to fix a bad relationship. It makes things worse, not better, stupid. So it’s no wonder that all of the same demons followed me here, and are screaming louder than ever.
Depression is no stranger to me. I have been chronically sad for as long as I can remember. It’s as though everything in my world is just one shade darker. Like my soundtrack is written in a minor key. My inner voice is very negative, and has very little grace. And it’s always, always been that way. Why would I expect that moving my stuff to a different state would change any of that?
I have my good days and my bad days, just like everyone else. I just seem to be having longer strings of bad days over the last few months.
For one, my job is often very frustrating. And, with spending 3 entire days and nights a week devoted to it, dissatisfaction on that front seems pretty significant. I don’t want to post a lot of details about it here, for obvious reasons, but let’s just say that it’s very different from what I am used to and not what I expected. I used to derive a lot of satisfaction and pride, and honestly, a bit of my identity from my work. So it’s taken some significant attitude adjustment to accept that this is my job now, and to realize that I have to define myself outside of the hospital. But, as my mom reminds me, my job is not my life. It pays the bills, and that’s what’s important. So focus on what’s good, get through the rest. And find something else to make myself feel important.
Two, I am lonely. As a complete and total introvert who greatly appreciates her alone time, this is hard to admit. I’ve never really been lonely before. But seeing as I haven’t really made any friends of my own yet, Robbie is all I have here. Not that I was particularly social back home. But at least I knew my family was only a short drive away if I ever needed to be around someone. At least I knew I could take Megan to lunch and a movie if I was bored on a random afternoon. Now I find myself watching the clock waiting for Robbie to get home so I can have some company that isn’t a 7-year old with an occasional attitude problem or the voice in my head that tells me I’ll never be happy, no matter what I have or do. Yet another thing I hate to admit. I’m stronger than that, right? At least I thought I was.
I realize now that moving, alone, is not going to fix anything. It’s what I choose to do now that I’m here that’s going to determine my happiness. And I’m beginning to understand that this is going to have to be a deliberate choice. I don’t make friends easily, so I need to decide to make some and actually step outside my damn comfort zone and invite someone, anyone to do something. I need to find hobbies that don’t involve me making and eating baked goods alone in my kitchen. I need to find a goal to work toward, and something to contribute to that’s going to make me feel like I am worth something. I need to do something. If I have any hope of not losing my mind here, I’m going to have to push myself.
And really, all of things I just said, are things I should have done back in Idaho, too. None of this has been caused by the fact that I moved, only exacerbated. But maybe this was exactly the kick in the butt I needed to actually make me do it. I was too comfortable in Idaho to change my life for the better. Maybe now that I have to, I actually will.
I have always been goal-driven… I am a Capricorn, afterall. So I’m going to start with setting myself a goal, and giving myself something tangible to work toward. First up: a 5k. Something to get me on my feet and out in nature. I signed up for the Oktoberfest Fun Run in Campbell this October. I’ve got the Couch-to-5K app on my phone, and I’ve already logged 2 good workouts. And even though I kind of hate to run, and those one-minute jogging intervals definitely kill right now, here’s what’s getting me through them: I’m not doing it to lose weight this time. I’m not even focused on the health benefits. This time I’m running for my sanity. And so far that’s a lot more motivating. (And I found someone who might be willing to run it with me, too, so bonus points for friend-making potential.)
Other things? I’ve been writing more again. I logged several entries in my paper journal before I decided to post here. Writing helps. I also go to yoga when I can, and there’s a really nice studio less than a mile from my house. I’m also looking into volunteering opportunities as a way to find meaningful hobbies and to meet people. Robbie and I get out and do a lot of stuff on my free weekends, too, so I don’t always feel like I’m bored and stuck at home. He’s been really great through all of this, and he deserves a medal for putting up with my craziness without complaint.
So I’m moving forward, slowly, but surely. Faking it ’til I make it. One step at a time. And other cliche things. I hope to be back soon with an update on how I’m magically all better now and this depressed business is all a thing of the past… but we’ll see. Thanks for hanging in there with me.