I was supposed to transfer in fall 2026. That was the plan, the one that was meant to help me fix things, or at least make me feel like I was still making progress.
But I ended up dropping another class. Again. With just one semester left, I can feel myself shrinking, like I’m fading into the background of my own life.
We had our wedding anniversary party – a small get-together with family on Halloween night. It should have felt special, and I wanted it to, but I barely remember parts of it because I was so exhausted. I stayed up until three in the morning the night before, stressing about all the details and worrying if people would even show up. More than half of our guest list didn’t RSVP. By the time the day arrived, I basically needed more alcohol than I’m comfortable admitting just to unwind, but I still tried to enjoy myself.
Everyone was nice and genuinely happy for us, but half the room was also watching the Dodgers’ Game 6, which was fine because I love sports. Honestly, I would have preferred to watch the game all night too, but I felt like I couldn’t.
Maybe that says more about me than I want to admit.
Lately, people have been telling me that I’m controlling and manipulative, that I’m using Hector. A couple of friends – friends we don’t even talk to anymore – said the same thing, and I keep thinking maybe they’re onto something. This was before they knew we were married, but maybe they’re right. Maybe keeping our relationship private during that first year and all the little ways I tried to protect it weren’t as innocent as I’ve convinced myself. Maybe I was trying too hard to hold onto something that felt like it could slip away at any moment.
And then there’s the money – it just never stops. I paid for the whole wedding myself; my grandfather pitched in a bit, but just when I thought I could take a breather, I dropped $600 on the puppies’ vet visits and shots because I love them. That’s just the start of being a dog mom, and babies and kids cost three times more, so I can’t complain about spending money when I know what this involves.
And then there’s the job. Ugh, the job. I want to quit so badly. Every day feels like I’m running on empty, giving way more than I’m getting back, and every tiny task just wears me down a little bit more. But in this economy, I can’t afford to quit. I have to hang in there. There’s no space for idealism or hoping something better will come along. Not when I keep fucking up at job interviews. So now my life is just about survival.
This isn’t just burnout anymore; it feels heavier, like every choice I make is the wrong one. I’m not making the right moves lately, and every decision backfires.
I started this blog because I needed a place to vent when no one around me would listen to me. It was meant to be a spot to let out the messy thoughts that are hard to say out loud. But these days, even here, I feel like I have to hold back and censor myself.
