WARNING: Rambly Introspective Whining, Full Force, Ahead.
My life is falling apart in so many ways, and it’s all my own fault. Here are my tales of being a Sad Sack: an individual who is given so much, but dwells in misery that she creates.
Actually, I don’t know if this will even be a collection of tales. More than likely, it won’t. It will be a simpering, introspective whinery, filled with that Arbor Mist variety of self-deploration.
When I say that I’ve been given so much, I’m not being hyperbolic. My parents are resilient, hardworking, and incredibly successful people. They are supportive of me in (almost) all of my endeavors, both emotionally and financially. I’ve never wanted for anything, and they’ve taken my sister and I around the world. Don’t even get me started on my sister: perfect, beautiful, a wonderful mother, and my very best friend.
I have a loving and wonderful fiancé. He is my best friend, compadre and partner in crime. Exploring every single day with him, instead of being a Sad Sack Netflix-Mush-Brain-Couch-Potato 90% of the time, is a huge goal of this whole new self-exploratory project.
I’m not super social, but I have several close friends who I can count on in a pinch. I have a few who I know would do anything for me, and I for them.
So, just to sum it up: I have loving, giving parents. The best sibling around. I’m marrying the love of my life. My friends are supportive and caring. So why am I a useless Sad Sack? Why do I claim my life is in tatters?
Simple answer: Me. I am what makes my life a constant mess. I am the thorn in my own side. I have made a shallow puddle of what could have been an ocean of an existence. Or at least a Great Lake.
Any chance I have to succeed, I freeze. I play video games, or read books (that aren’t my assigned reading), or simply curl up and panic. This, in turn, has wrecked my self esteem, my creativity, my ability to be around large groups of people for extended time, or even be around any people completely sober for any amount of time.
I drink too much, I engage in too many unhealthy habits, I sleep at erratic hours and for far too long.
I realize I’m spiraling. I have always been spiraling, to some degree or another. I want to stop, and in order to do that I have to make some changes.
That is the purpose of this: to explore my Sad Sack qualities, and to work on them. To knead them into better versions; drawing strength from my perceived weaknesses, making them work for me for the first time in my life, instead of reducing me to a bare-bones ghost.
Tales of a Sad Sack 