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Sidelines by Phoebe Bridgers

Today has been the biggest mix of chaos and confusion I have ever experienced.

Not only did I wake up late, but I rushed to the office like a chicken with my head cut off because I thought I had an important meeting about the next issue we were planning this morning.

It turns out, I rushed for nothing, because when the conference room was empty this morning, my desk neighbor, Dan, reminded me it was scheduled for next week.

I don’t know what’s been going on with me lately, but my memory has been getting worse. When I’m in the office, I feel like I can’t focus, or someone is always distracting me with something else they need me to do.

And what's worse is the reason I woke up late: I stayed up way too late attempting to clean my apartment, only to have fallen asleep before I had a chance to get anything done.

Last weekend, I decided to try a new hobby—making trinkets out of clay I bought online.

It’s been super fun so far, but I made a huge mess of my apartment that I haven't been wanting to clean. Last night, I had enough of coming home to my living space always looking like a tornado blew through it. I should be proud of myself that I even tried to clean up, but I’ve been beating myself up all day about not actually doing it.

My life lately has felt like a constant inner battle of me trying to do everything right and failing miserably, and I don’t know what to do to get out of this weird cycle.

“Amelia, are you ready for our budget meeting?” another colleague of mine, Jessica, peeks her head over my desk.

Shit. “I thought that was tomorrow afternoon?”

“Angie moved it. Didn't you see the email about it?”

“No,” I sigh—another thing I didn't pay attention to. I really am not doing this whole adult with a full-time office job thing well lately. I check my inbox, and it’s the first thing I see.

The second thing is an email directly from Angie, and she blocked off a meeting for just the two of us beforehand.

Fuck.

“It looks like I have another meeting before then with Angie, but I’ll see you at the budget meeting, okay?”

She smiles at me as I grab random things off my desk before I bolt to her office, not wanting to be late. I take a few deep breaths as I get closer to her door. My mind is suddenly racing, and every bad thought about what this meeting could be won’t leave my head .

Am I going to get fired? Have I accidentally embezzled from the company and I’m going to get arrested?

This is not at all how I wanted today to go, and as soon as I stop the spiral in my brain and knock on Angie’s door, I throw my best poker face on and smile as she beckons me in.

“Amelia, I’m so glad you’re here,” she tells me.

Okay, that feels like a good start. “Thanks, Angie. I have to admit, seeing this one-on-one was kind of stressing me out.” For the last five minutes, since I just noticed it .

“I didn't mean to do that.” She smirks as she closes her planner, giving me her full, undivided attention. “How are you doing lately, Amelia?”

Her question catches me off guard. “Uh, I’ve been fine.

Just going through the motions with work.

You know how it is.” I mean, I broke up with my short-term boyfriend the other day.

Our relationship wasn't going anywhere. It was a means to an end, and I think we both knew that.

He barely said a word, and it wasn't anything difficult, since we lived separately and barely stayed over at one another's places. There was no awkward clothing exchange, no feelings muddling us up. It was amicable, the easiest breakup I’ve ever been through.

To be fair, every breakup is easy when the only one I have to compare it to ripped me to shreds.

She nods. “Look, I’ll cut right to the chase. I was originally going to have this meeting be about your yearly review, but when I sat down and started going over it with Ken, we were both a little concerned.”

I reach for my necklace. “Concerned?”

Another nod. “Yes. So, I wanted to bring you in here and ask how everything is going. I know the transition was tough for you at the beginning, but I’m starting to really worry about you, as your boss and a friend. ”

I wouldn’t necessarily call us friends, but she is someone I see five days a week. Since I don’t really have any other friends over here besides my coworkers, I guess she counts as one.

Come to think of it, I don’t really have any friends over here.

The only people I would consider as such are the people at the office, but even then, I don’t go out with them after work, and I don’t make an effort to know much about them.

I don’t ask much about their lives other than what they give me, and I don’t tell them anything about me because, well, there is nothing to tell.

“You’re worried about me?”

“Amelia, the past few months, I’ve never seen you so distracted. You're messing up in meetings, you're forgetting to turn things in on time, and you don’t seem like you’re present. I’ve only just noticed it, but when I look back, I realize it’s been happening for a while.”

“I-I’m sorry, Angie. Really, I don’t know what’s been going on with me lately.

I thought it was just happening today, but I can admit, I’ve been distracted when I’m here.

” This is so fucking embarrassing. I cannot believe my boss has called me into her office and is asking me if I’m okay.

“I promise, I’ll focus on getting back on track. Now, if that’s all—”

“It’s not.” She holds her hand up. “I think you need some time to recharge, and since you have the most accrued vacation hours I’ve ever seen, I think it would be good if you took the entire month of January off and reset.”

“W-What?”

“I know this is a shock, but this will be good for you, Amelia. Take some time and really focus on you. Not only do you work too much, but when you’re here, you’re not focused. It’s okay to admit you might need a reset, mentally and physically.”

“Angie, really, I’m fine. I just—”

“I know this can seem scary and like it’s not the right time, but this is for the best.” She reaches out and grabs my arm with a soft pat. “This is for your own good.”

“This isn't you firing me then?”

She shakes her head. “Your job will be here waiting for you when you’re back and refreshed, Amelia. I promise, this isn't leading to you being let go. Sometimes, we work ourselves too hard and need a break, and sometimes, someone else has to let us know when we need that break.”

“And that’s what you’re doing?”

“Yes. Now, why don’t you head home. As soon as you walk out this door, I want you to not think about this place or anything to do with work until you come back. Does that sound okay?”

“I-I guess,” I say, my voice low and defeated. This job has been the only thing really getting me out of bed in the morning, so I’m a little nervous about what the next month is going to look like.

“Good,” she says before she opens her office door for me. “This will be good for you, Amelia.”

I nod, unable to speak before I pack up my things and head for my place, not wanting any of my coworkers to see the tears falling down my face as I leave.

It’s been one week since I left work on a forced paid vacation, and to say I’ve done a lot of self-reflecting during this time would be an understatement.

Not only was Angie right, but I haven't really felt like myself these past few months, and that could be for any number of reasons. I stopped talking to my best friends from back home. I threw myself into my work to distract my brain, though it didn't work, because look at where I’m at now. When I really sat with my decision to come over here in the first place, I realized I’m still stuck in the same place I was when I arrived here.

I haven't been moving forward. I’ve been stagnant for months, and I only just noticed it this week. Now, I’m on paid leave from my job, I have no close friends over here, no boyfriend. I’m completely alone, and that realization has punched me in the gut.

I thought I was doing okay. I thought I was staying afloat and going through the motions, but I’m not. I’m actually not even close to doing that. In fact, I’m pretty sure I’ve hit rock bottom, because I haven't felt this horrible…well, ever.

It’s an odd feeling, realizing you’re not where you thought you would be. I know I have a few weeks to get back on my feet, since I don’t have to work, but I still don’t feel whole. When this fog used to come about, it used to only take me a few days to recharge before I felt okay again.

The fog hasn't lifted in months, and I have no idea how to get it to go away. I’ve tried the usual things, and none of them have worked.

I tried a new hobby—oil painting—and that only lasted a few days before I got bored.

I tried to listen to new music and analyze the lyrics, and I could barely focus enough to listen to an album front to back.

I tried getting out of my place and going for a walk, or to my favorite coffee shop or bookstore, and I was so in my head, I thought the world was caving in as soon as I got outside.

What’s worse is that I still can’t sleep.

My mind will not stop running about a thousand different things, and I’m not sure how to quiet it down before it drives me to insanity.

Part of me is terrified something is really wrong with me. I don’t know how to fix it this time. I don’t know how to make my mind stop spinning. I don’t know how to get better. I don’t know how to feel more like who I used to be.

I’ve barely been sleeping. Eating feels like the hardest task I don’t want to approach, because the thought of having to make three full meals a day and make those three meals different is difficult. Even when I have been eating something, it tastes flat and horrible.

I wish I could find out what’s wrong with me so I could cut it out. I wish it were that easy, but I know it’s not that simple. Nothing ever seems to be easy with me.

I’m not okay, and I think this is the first time I’m really admitting that to myself. I’m afraid. I’m terrified I won’t get better because I don’t have any motivation to do so.

But when I look around at my life, nothing is really that bad. Most people have it worse. I’m living my dream in another country, working for an organization I’ve loved for as long as I can remember. I should be happy. I should be living my dream and excited to be doing so, but I’m not.

Everything feels difficult. Sleeping doesn't come often, and when it does, it’s not restful.

I haven't answered my messages or emails in the last few weeks, and now they stop coming all together because I’ve fallen out of touch with everyone I love.

It’s too hard for me to admit it’s difficult to pick up the phone and answer.

It’s too hard to admit I’m falling apart, and it took my boss forcing me on leave to realize it.

I take a deep breath before I head out of my place to the appointment I made on a whim yesterday while I was crying into a bowl of cereal. Today, I’m taking a big step. It’s one I never thought I would willingly take, but the conversation with my boss opened my eyes.

I’m not doing well. Everything around me is falling apart.

I need to talk to someone, because if I don’t, I worry what might come of it.

I’m not saying I would do anything drastic, but I know I can’t keep living in this fog with no way to get out.

It’s too much. It’s too hard, and if I keep going like this, I’m going to fall even deeper into this hole, if that’s even possible.

I’m finally open to sitting across from a trained professional and dissecting my entire life. If it makes me feel less alone, or better in general, it will be worth it—the awkwardness of spilling my guts to a total stranger.

Therapy is not the answer to all my problems, but it seems like a good start.