Thinking about what other people are thinking about me

So I spend a great deal of time in the public library. To be honest, I’m there nearly every day. It’s quiet, has a good internet connection, is very close to my home, and there are a whole bunch of books on a variety of subjects that interest me. It seems like a sensible place to spend my over-abundance of spare time.

I rarely do much reading while I’m in the library. Most of my time is spent working on my laptop, or looking for new books to check out. I then read the books at home. Though the library is nice and quiet, I prefer curling up in the cozy chair in my bedroom with a cup of coffee or tea. Because nothing is more relaxing than having a nice cup of tea over a book about teenagers fighting to their deaths, or Taliban controlled Afghanistan, or living with a severe mood disorder. It does the body good.

At my house I currently have over twenty library books. They are all on the subjects of achieving happiness, stories of people who have lived through depression, the history of mental illness, and¬†overcoming a serious mood disorder. Actually, I think I have nearly half of the library’s resources on mood disorders in my bedroom.

I try not to trouble myself by worrying too much about what complete strangers might be thinking about me, but I do it anyway. Every time I go to check out a book I imagine the librarian thinking, “Hmmm, another mental illness book. Obviously somebody is crazy…” Though I’d prefer to believe she is thinking, “Oh, she must be researching mood disorders for some kind of project. That’s interesting”. Or maybe she just thinks I’m some introverted and ¬†unemployed girl with way too much time on my hands. Which is fairly accurate. Or maybe nobody in the library notices me at all and I just think too much…


That feeling

It amazes me at how quickly I can go into a feeling of absolute hopelessness and self-loathing. Yesterday evening I was in a decent, even somewhat optimistic mood. Then, something ended up reminding me of a recent event that had made me unhappy. I was quickly overcome with melancholy and became outwardly irritable.

During these times, any slightly agitating incident feels so much more cumbersome to handle. When I went to get into my car, the driver’s and front passenger’s doors were both jammed (I assume it had to do with the snow and ice outside). To be able to leave in my car I had to enter from the back seat and crawl up to the front. This is not that tiring of an experience, but I was already in an upsetting mental state. It felt as if everything in my life is always falling apart and nothing good ever happens to me. I spent the rest of my evening crying over Taco Bell while watching reruns on television (I don’t even remember what was on).

Of course, this was an overreaction. My circumstances are not that bad. Yes I’m unemployed, single, broke, directionless and depressed. Okay it sounds bad when I say it like that. But I do have a fairly decent life. I have a nice place to live and enough food. My basic needs are met. As far as life in comparison to many people in this world, I’m doing okay.

It just frustrates me to not have something fulfilling in my life. If I had something that I felt truly passionate, it would make a huge difference. But I guess it’s what I need to keep working on to find.