I’m not sure what to do now.
I feel so sick. Well, not physically. Just mentally I guess.
Yesterday night I felt a surge of motivation. I was talking to lenz about how our actions should not be defined by what other people expect of us. Even if they are our parents. For a long while I’ve been feeling sick and tired of how my parents raised me. They raised me to become someone with a lot of money who would be able to take care of the family. To send siblings off to college. To make a good life for the family. While all of that is great, why the fuck am I responsible for the family in which my parents have created? I NEVER asked for this. I never wanted this. I never asked to be alive, let alone have other people I am supposedly responsible for.
If you had children, wouldn’t you be the one responsible for them until they die? Okay, well ideally, both parties should contribute to the whole well being of the family. But I think ultimately the parents are the one who is responsible. My parents were from the generation of people who think that the more children they have, the more well of they will be. But the question is, if you’re not well off right now, what makes you think you can raise multiple children? I think it is pathetic to want to have your children do the things you wanted to do, but never had the guts to do yourself. It’s stupid to want your children to do great because you want a better life. In my opinion, once you have children, you should keep pushing your children’s passion regardless of what happens to you. This will only work if you keep in mind that BEFORE you have children, you are well off yourself, instead of hoping that one day your children would do something to make you well off.
What I’m trying to say is, despite having them as my parents, I do not really have an obligation to do anything they tell me. I am in a job where I don’t really enjoy. And the only reason why I keep doing what I’m doing is because I want to pay for my sister’s college. And that’s quite literally it. I am unhappy. I hate myself. I live life in anxiety and depression. Well to be fair, all of that doesn’t happen JUST BECAUSE of my job.. it happens because I am me. I’m just never satisfied because I’m always looking for the perfection that doesn’t exist.
You know what, I really don’t know what the fuck is wrong with me. Maybe it’s just that I need human contact. I think I just miss everybody and I am so afraid of being alone that I think my life is shit while it actually isn’t. But I don’t know. During college I was always able to work 12 hours a day, but now… not anymore. I’ve spent many days just watching mindless movies. Movies that never really help with my depression / anxiety. Maybe I’ve just lost motivation for life. I’m not sure what the cause is but.. I’m just losing it.
Honestly, yesterday when I internalized that my family’s current condition is not my fault, and that I do not have full responsibility, if not ANY responsibility, towards what happens to my family financially, I felt some degree of relief. In fact, today, I drew two things that I posted on instagram. It’s a huge accomplishment.
But then now I’m back to being depressed. Sigh.