The world is changing, things I love are dying from it, like maple syrup and the oceans, going to be people I love if I don't stop caring or solve death first. I guess that last part's not really up to me though, maybe in chunks, pieces, giving someone the money to make a band-aid, too squeamish to approach it myself. Once I've got the money, someday. Moving, not sure to where, far away if I don't snag a job somewhere else soon and anywhere if I do. I should be eminently employable, but I don't love what I do sufficiently, wanting to work at isn't enough, expected to hone my edge in my free time, keep up with stuff that doesn't interest me really, all I want is to do something useful, as part of a team, for sufficient reward.
Also, I am strange, and fearful, and have trouble connecting in the way that networking needs; I do not know how to maintain a connection but instead reach out just enough to let it wither and fear I've been resented for that. Convinced what others remember are my mistakes, my refusal to engage. Cards I keep forever and read to make me smile yet never send an answer to, never a thank you, not because I'm not grateful, but because I want to do something special, really special to thank you and then I ... can't. I don't have time, I start and fail, it isn't good enough to thank you with. I can't find the words to make you smile, I love you enough to cry but it gnaws at my gut, that I haven't said it, that I can't say it, and I fear you think me ungrateful, unappreciative ... thankless. It tears me apart not being able to do something beautiful for you.
If it weren't for debt I would think about minimum-wage programming in an internship in Detroit area despite my lack of driving savvy, but to say sooth that is insufficient, I can't really settle for anything less than 60% of my desired salary and still possess food, shelter, and debt payment amount. Maybe with food and shelter provided I could - but likely only fair to others if that means working less rather than underselling myself. And that still carries with it a strange land, and I would not want to be provided those rather than providing myself eternally, certainly. Time would let deal with. That which was home will fade one way or another.
How do I sell myself when I feel worthless, even if that goes against the clear-sighted approach of reason to the matter? How do I engage when depressed? When I had school, I could just keep at that, keep going each day, there were guides, but now, my world is shifting, I didn't make enough plans for after the end, and I would rather hide under a rock than face the world, my mind holds interest in sabotaging itself, I want to care about the world but I didn't vote, and I'm ashamed of that. Worse, something in me refused to vote so I would be ashamed of myself. How logical is that? Trying to do what needs to be done is an enabler and reminder of change and consequently a knife in my pre-emptively homesick heart.
I'm privileged as hell, young educated white cis female with a lovely family, loving friends and open-minded upbringing. Bi but never suffered for it, rather off from neurotypical but always felt I was at least as much at advantage in that, and there are common elements of my diagnosis that I never did have (except perhaps the opposite of expected - empathy so severe I have to actively avoid triggering it or I'll try to spend all my not-really-existing money on solving it). Depression and anxiety don't seem to actually care how objectively lucky you are though, it makes for a strange juxtaposition, especially when actively happy and passively ... falling apart.
