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Sad things of sadness

November 6, 2013

I’ve cried more in the past month than I think I have all year.

More than when I broke up with my ex. More than when I didn’t get that job this summer. This last month, I’ve had more than I can take.

First it was work. My incredible boss got a new job, and I’m left running communications for the entire organization. Then it was bedbugs, which infested my mind more than my actual room. Then it was my roommate, who accused me of abandoning her because I stayed with my boyfriend for a week while the apartment was in shambles, and who then suddenly decided to move back to Michigan. I now have to find a roommate and try to sell the apartment to people while the floor is still coated with pesticide.

Now it’s the security deposit, nearly $2000 of my money that I can’t access because stupid Wells Fargo has a policy on not depositing checks that have two names on them unless both parties sign the check in front of a bank teller. Never mind if your former roommate, whose name is on the check, moved to Philadelphia more than six months ago. Never mind if that $2000 is more than half of what you have in your bank account right now. Never mind that it’s more than 2 full months of rent that you can barely afford anyway in your roach and bedbug infested apartment.

I always try to do the right thing. Mostly out of paranoia that if I do the wrong thing, I’ll be chastised or punished. I’m pushing myself harder at work than I can deal with, and feel like I’m not getting fairly compensated. I feel guilty because I feel like I’m being self-centered/whiny/privilegedwhitegirl right now, and really, I am.

It bothers me when people try to say that their problems aren’t such a big deal by saying things like, “I’ve got a roof over my head, I’ve got a loving family, my situation’s not so bad compared to that homeless guy over there.” Yes. Those are all great things. Yes, you’re extremely privileged because at least you have a job, and you have a family, and you have a roof and a bed to sleep in. But that doesn’t make the problems that you’re facing less valid, or less stressful. It doesn’t mean that things are automatically easy. That’s what I hate about that argument – in trying to seem self-aware and cognizant of your privileges, you think that your problems shouldn’t affect you on an individual level. I’d never tell someone who lost their job and had a family to feed that “Well I’ve had to stay with my boyfriend for three weeks and keep all my clothes in plastic bags because of the bedbugs” but for me, the situation is still incredibly stressful.

This doesn’t have a cheerful ending, I’m sorry to say. I’m pretty sad and upset right now, so…there’s that.

I’m really lucky Sam’s in my life.

I don’t think I could have done this without him.

I love you.

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