Not in a productive, exciting way but in the kind of where life doesnât give you time to breathe before the next thing crashes in.
The year began with boxes. I moved back from my apartment to my parentsâ house, carrying not just my things, but the quiet weight of starting over. After that, my focus narrowed into survival mode: earning back the savings I lost from renting, rebuilding little by little. Progress was slow, but it was PROGRESS. And at that time, that felt like enough.
What started as a job quickly turned into emotional exhaustion. A colleagueâs constant micromanaging, the unfair distribution of tasks, the subtle bullying that chips away at your confidence day after day. It became unbearable. I reached a point where staying felt heavier than leaving. So I resigned.
Between August and October, I applied to countless companies, but I placed all my hope into one. They sold themselves as a âwork-life balance environment.â I believed them. I closed other doors just to get in, convinced that this was the opportunity that would finally make things steady again.
The interview process alone should have warned me.
The CEOâwho was rude, intimidating, and dismissive at first meet.
And finally, my future coworkers.
Each step drained me, but I ignored the red flags. I told myself it was just pressure. I told myself I needed the money. I told myself to endure.
When the offer came, I accepted without questioning the unfair terms. I started on October 13, with the promise of my first full salary on November 28, over a month of work before being paid. I didnât think about what that meant for my time, my energy, or my worth as an employee. I just agreed.
Then came the MEETINGS... Yes, plural. Endless meetings. Heavy workloads that were never mentioned during onboarding. Expectations that kept growing without boundaries. And worst of all, public humiliation from the CEO during meetings, again and again. Each time chipped away at something inside me.
My life flipped completely. My sleep schedule disappeared. Time with friends and family became fragmented. I was physically present with the most important people in my life while simultaneously working, listening, responding always in MEETINGS. I felt guilty, frustrated, and completely disconnected from reality. I didnât know how to manage my time anymore because the life I was living wasnât realistic to manage in the first place.
When November 28 arrived, I showed up anyway. I tried to be composed. I attended the weekly HR check-in.
I panicked. I cried. I lost control. I wasnât myself anymore. I wasnât just tired, I was drained. Completely. My body was moving, but my soul was empty. I wanted to escape. I wanted everything to slow down. I wanted to rest.
That day, I couldnât work. My body refused.
I wasnât even happy when the salary finally came. My mind was already screaming that I needed to run. This wasnât what I deserved. This wasnât what I wanted it to be. This wasnât life.
By December, I resigned again.
It felt terrifying, and peaceful at the same time. I no longer woke up dreading the daily MEETINGS, no longer braced myself for humiliation in front of others. But reality came crashing in quickly: December. Christmas. And no money. Every bit of the salary I received went straight to paying off debt.
Now Iâm here, struggling again. Not knowing where to start. Not knowing how to earn what I need all over again. Anxiety rising. Depression creeping back in. Wanting to seek professional help but wondering how I could possibly afford therapy or medication. Feeling ashamed when people around me give what they can, knowing I canât return the favor, not even with small gifts or food. It feels like my life is eating me alive.
And now Christmas is everywhere.
Every time I hear a Christmas song, something in me breaks. Usually, these songs make me happy. They make me excited. Christmas has always been something I look forward to, a season that feels warm, hopeful, and full of light. But this year, itâs different. This time, the music makes me sad. It feels like heartbreak. Like something I was waiting for never arrived.
This is not how I imagined myself during Christmas. Not this version of me. I was looking forward to this season, but instead, everything feels dark and heavy. The joy I usually feel has been replaced with quiet tears and the constant urge to cry when no one is looking.
As the year comes to an end and a new one waits around the corner, Iâm not asking for miracles. Iâm just praying to survive this last stretch of the year. To make it through the holidays. To rest, even just a little. To find the strength to stand back up again... slowly, gently... without giving up.
Because even now, even at the edge, even when my tiredness is on another level, I WANT TO BELIEVE THAT THIS PAIN IS NOT PERMANENT. That someday, Christmas songs will feel warm again. And that maybe... just maybe, this chapter is ending so a softer one can begin.
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