A Year of Chelseas

"I am gonna make it through this year if it kills me."

A year ago today, I arrived back at the house where I grew up after spending eight months in Florida living with a friend. I had gone because I thought it would be an adventure, because I wanted independence and that was the opportunity that had knocked. I thought I would somehow be able to get a better job, something that wasn't in retail. I pictured myself at Disney World once a month, if not more. 

In reality, Florida did not offer me any of the things I thought I would get. The only "friend" I ever really spent time with was the most toxic influence of my life, which I wouldn't talk about with my roommate for fear she might not like him, so that created distance with her. I ended up in major credit card debt. I couldn't afford those trips to Disney, and I was too depressed to go during Christmas, which was the main thing I had been looking forward to. My desperate attempt to find a job led me to Old Navy, which was underpaid, and eventually, a really awful place to work. I didn't even spend time at the gorgeous beach because it just didn't appeal to me to go alone, except when I'd go in the middle of the night. 

So I ended up back in the place I said I'd never live again: My parents house. I've talked about all this before, I know. Just recapping so I can talk about the past year that I've been home.

I came home a different person than who left. I don't know what it was, but I was a little bit less anxious around people and wasn't that awkward. I guess I was just so grateful to be around people, especially ones who actually respected me. I felt like a failure, and that my family was tip-toeing around me, not sure how to treat the new person whom they didn't really know. But beyond that, I was kind of beyond any major depression.

I got a crappy job at Cotton On, but I didn't really mind too much, since they had promised me I would be promoted as soon as a position opened, which was to be almost immediately. Then VidCon happened. I don't really need to remind anyone what happened there. There was one particular thing I had been running from within that awful, toxic sludge which I could no longer get away from. Until VidCon, I hadn't told anyone about it. I finally accepted what had really happened on a night the previous October, and I didn't know how to deal with it. I still don't know how to deal with it, but I don't really run from it anymore. Once again, a different person emerged from this.

That crappy job turned into an unbearable one. My first promotion took two months. Then I was promised another, which I found out was basically a ploy to keep me around after my boss had poorly treated my best friend who had come to work there. For the first time, I had been really bad at my job. I was crying all the time and constantly stressed about it until I quit. A lot of people told me that we just need to get over it and do jobs we hate. That was hard to hear. Maybe they were right. But I'm a bit too idealistic to accept that I should be working at a job that makes me cry 3 times a week. I felt so worthless and any confidence I had gained previously was completely shaken. Yet again, here was a different Chelsea.

Somewhere in the middle of all this, I went from a person who was absolutely sure of her faith, to one who has no idea what anything is. Not knowing if what you've believed for over two decades is true will change anyone. 

Now, I'm doing the best job I've ever done. It certainly has is frustrations, but I feel so lucky that people pay me to hang out with their children. Whenever I get those "Nobody needs me" kinds of feelings, I can fend them off quickly, because just a couple weeks ago, I was told by the main mom I work for that I was "Making a big difference in their lives". That's not something I can say for any other job I've held, and it's really all I've ever wanted, or what I'm sure most people want. I might be another person. 

Having been at least 5 different versions of myself over the past year, things can be hard. It's hard to hear that people don't really know who I am anymore. It's hard to feel the distance it's created in my relationships. It's hard because I don't feel like I can trust anyone anymore. It's hard because little things make me feel like I'm being taken advantage of. It's hard because I know people expect me to be a certain way and that makes it easy to regress into that. It's hard to feel like everyone looks at me and only sees my lows. It's hard to feel like I'm grasping at things but have nothing to cling to. It's hard to look for jobs everyday because I need more hours. It's hard to live with people I can't be myself around and constantly try to avoid. It's hard to know I probably can't ever live on my own in this area. It's just been a really hard year. Couple of years, really.

Ultimately, however, I think I'm happier than that girl who left for Florida to seek her independence, the girl who thought a city 3000 miles away held her happiness. I have a long, long way to go to be the person I want to be, and live the kind of life I want to live, but I think I'm closer, which is something.

Listening to: "The Sunset Tree" by The Mountain Goats