Sometimes I just want to scream. Canada, great as it is, feels like it’s closing in on me, sucking me in. It’s a black hole that I got too close to, and have now fallen in with no hope of escape.
You would think the vastness wouldn’t cause claustrophobia, but there’s so much space, so much nothingness, with tiny pockets of people here and there. I live in a bubble here. There’s everything I could ever need in the bubble. It’s a safe and familiar bubble. But it’s still a bubble and that’s all there is.
There are distractions available within this bubble I call home. I feel like I’m up to my neck in things I need to do and should do and want to do. There’s not enough time for any of it. I can feel the pressure of it all pressing down, and pressure’s fine. I can deal with pressure, sometimes I even crave it. But everything feels like obstacles keeping me from getting out. They feel like stones tied to my ankles. All the reasons why I can’t leave. All the work I need to do before I can make my own choices again.
Every so often I come up for air only to find myself unbearably lonely. Not alone, per se, but too far from anyone nearby to keep from feeling alone. I can’t quite dive into my work with the kind of single-mindedness I desire. I can’t connect with people, either. I almost kind of want to stop trying altogether.
I think I need help.