I just turned 29. I made it through another year.
Not long ago, at the beginning of this month, I got a new job. A much better job. A job that’s going to be rewarding and keep my brain working, and it’s a proper job that I can actually be proud of admitting to. I already know people who work there, the social side is amazing, the parties are amazing. I hated my old job. Six years of desperately wanting to leave and be something better and make something of my life so that I could be proud of me, and I’ve achieved that.
This month I get to see my favourite band twice.
My best friend and I are in such a good place. She’s just so- it’s good to be in that place with her again. We stopped speaking when I was trapped in my previous relationship, and we’ve been patching things up, and now it’s amazing. She made my birthday brilliant.
All of these are wonderful things.
But I don’t feel anything. Or, when I do, it’s just sadness. It’s a deep, aching sadness. A strange, hollow depression. I feel disconnected from everything. Like I’m floating above my own life looking at all of these lovely things and being unable to touch them or feel happy about them.
Every day for the last week I’ve started my diary entries with ‘I should be so happy right now, but I’m not-‘
I know I should be happy. But I feel nothing but disconnected.
I don’t feel any kind of love. I don’t know even if I love anymore. Or if I can. I don’t feel reachable.
I’m so tired of feeling sad.
And unsettled. I feel as though I’m bouncing along a riverbed. I hope I settle. I want to settle again. I want to feel this happiness I’ve longed for. I want to feel it and hold it to me and savour the moments I achieved.
The only times I’ve been happily recently are when I’ve been off my face, ridiculously drunk. Only then. And even then I don’t know if I’m happy or just more happily numb.
The most content I’ve been, genuinely content, sober was when I was wearing a jumper another girl sent me. Someone who lives on the other side of the world, who I’ve spent all of a week with in six years of knowing her. I put it on and I lay in bed and I breathed. And it was okay.
Why can’t I just be happy? Why is this so confusing? I’m nearly thirty and I have less answers than I ever used to.