Living With My Parents During Covid 19

Where do I even begin with this story?

It was never my intention to move back in.  Nor is it my intention to stay for that long.  But I fear that I will.

I fear getting complacent.  I fear that I will never be able to move out as there is just no drive.

Living with my parents is also strange.  I have never been with them for this long since I left Adelaide 6 years ago.  The longest period of time would have been a week.  Maximum.

It's now been a month.

Even then I never really lived with both of them.  Mum was often away in HK.  Dad was church a lot of the time.

Adelaide is a small city.  The people are relaxed.  Too relaxed, even.  The people that I hang out with have never lived by themselves.  Have never had to worry about not making rent.  Or not having a place to live.

Many of them are teenagers or younger.  They follow the trajectory of graduate, get a job (or not), find a partner, get married and have kids.

And I feel like a loser for coming back.  My ego has been severely bruised.  Who am I anymore?  There is nothing exciting about where I live.  Nothing exciting about what I do - which is nothing.

Oh did I not tell you?  I quit my job, right before coronavirus decided to take over the planet.

I still wish I hadn't quit.  The loss of all the relationships.  The daily connections.  Just the ability to instant message someone at work to complain.

I miss it.

And I hate myself for giving it up.  Because I didn't listen to HR to get a psychologist before calling my parents.  Relying on their promises that things would get better.

Relying on anything to make me feel better because I no longer could make myself feel better.

The new things always fade.  In the end, I am still me.  Unworthy.  Lost.

I feel so lost.

I also don't like posting things where people can see me and ask me about it.  I don't want to talk about my feelings with you in person.  Give me space and I'll talk to you about it later.  Not while the emotions are still raw.  Not when I haven't finished processing them.

Instagram gave me the opportunity to be less self-conscious about myself.  Because I learned to not care about what other people thought of me.

I am also no longer objective.  I no longer care about what makes other people happy.  Have I been burnt?  Years of conditioning, and now it's gone.

I just don't know who I am anymore.

There are no stories in my head.  When I listen to my music I will cry.  And I cannot even cry properly without someone coming in to tell me not to cry.

Keeping Secrets.

To Max, and everyone else at LexisNexis.

I'm sorry.  I wish I could have told you all the real story of why I left.  It's a little bit complicated and I wish I knew how to tell this to you in person without seizing up out of anxiety and wishing the ground would swallow me whole.

Back Home in 2020

Lol.  Reading through my old posts is hilarious.  Sad, but hilarious.  So much has changed since then.   People often don't believe me when I tell them I used to be fat.  They're like "What? You?? I don't even recognise you!!" So it's amazing how much has changed since then.

I wish I could tell that girl that yes, you know what.  Being skinny is awesome.  Being skinny is fantastic because yeah, you do get to wear the nice clothes and people do seem to want to talk to you more and whatever.  But its hard to maintain.  But it is nice.