Echoes of the Past
Another supposedly fun-filled weekend has arrived, yet I find myself recovering from the emotional hangover of the previous day. The weight of recent events leaves me feeling like I need to accomplish something—anything—to break out of this downward spiral. Lately, it’s felt like an endless loop: by the time the workweek ends, I am so emotionally drained that even activities I usually enjoy, or simple household chores, seem insurmountable. Resting doesn’t solve the problem, either; instead of feeling restored, I am plagued by guilt for having spent time doing nothing. The end result is a double defeat—I haven’t achieved anything, and I’m still just as exhausted.
From the outside, it probably appears as though I’m just lazy, which only adds another layer of shame and guilt. People see my inactivity and assume I’m simply not trying hard enough, but the truth is far more complicated. I want to be productive; I want to tackle the day and get things done, but I can’t. Inside my mind, there’s a constant argument—a tug-of-war that feels as futile and frustrating as reasoning with a stubborn toddler. Nothing seems to work, and I’m met with unsolicited advice: “Try harder,” they say, or, “Have you tried this planner or system?” If a planner or system could fix this, I’d have found it by now—my growing pile of unused planners is evidence enough. Do people really think I’m not trying? Do they think I’m stupid?
These judgments only deepen the sense of failure, not just as an adult, but especially as a woman. The spiral continues—every attempt to reach out for help is met with skepticism, making it even harder to ask again. The result is self-isolation. The sensations are overwhelming: frustration wells up until tears threaten to spill, my body aches from the constant tension, and headaches have become a daily battle. More than anything, I just want to be happy; I want to have what everyone else seems to possess. I find myself wondering what I did wrong for life to feel so difficult, and anxiety only amplifies the physical pain that accompanies these feelings.
Instead of being able to face my demons, I end up doing nothing and spiraling into a sense of worthless failure. I freeze—unable to move forward, paralyzed by indecision and self-doubt. The weekend slips by in a haze of doom scrolling through social media and binge-watching Netflix. I don’t understand why I keep doing this to myself or how to break the cycle and make it stop.
I think one reason I’m drawn to romantic comedies is because the characters’ lives often start out messy, just like mine, but by the end, everything seems to fall into place. They have close-knit friendships, caring families, and eventually find true love. Sometimes, though, I can’t help but grow cynical about how unrealistic these stories are and wonder why I keep watching them when they only seem to highlight what’s missing in my own life.
As I scroll through Facebook, I notice that Luke posted about taking an art class with some mutual friends—a class we had previously talked about doing together. Seeing this, I feel a deep sinking in my heart, a familiar sense of rejection. I know that I like him more than he likes me, and if we’re ever going to do something together, I have to be the one to plan it and hope he shows up. I recognize that this isn’t healthy, but forming a connection with someone is so rare for me that I cling to it. I wish I could just let go or turn off my brain, but I don’t know how.
I’m fully aware that doom scrolling isn’t good for me; the longer I scroll, the emptier I feel, as though life is passing me by. Sometimes I pause and hardly recognize myself or remember how I ended up here. Things haven’t turned out the way I’d hoped—failed relationships and friendships have left their mark. I often feel like I’m either not enough or simply too much for others. It always seems like I’m the one putting in all the effort—checking on and helping others—while no one checks up on me. On the outside, I might appear smart, calm, and collected, but inside, I’ve been running on empty for a long time.
