This is a bit of a ramble, maybe.
At the start of 2024, I made a goal to watch 50 movies over the course of the year. I had just started teaching a high school-level video production class, and I thought it would be a good idea to watch films from a wide range of genres and cinematic eras.
Besides, 50 films in a year is less than one movie a week. I could set some time aside each week for a movie, right?
I did not set aside time each week to watch films.
I was incredibly stressed out about this. Right from the start, stress.
I didn’t even watch a movie the first week of the year. But instead of finalizing my syllabus for my video class, I watched Koganada’s After Yang. I really liked it! It was a good film to start my 2024 cinema journey.
Then I watched Stalker, Asteroid City, Dune (Part I), and Lady Bird. I wasn’t not watching movies.
I had a lot going on, though! Teaching a High School art class for the first time was incredibly stressful, and I still had to manage the other aspects of my life. I was throwing a goal into the mix that wasn’t well thought out. I got to 10-ish movies before I lost count, and even then, I wasn’t really enjoying myself.
This sounds like a post from a couple of years ago. Yep. I was burning out.
At the same time this was happening, I started dating someone. Things were fine at first, but we were moving fast and making a big deal out of the wrong things. I was doing a lot of things badly, and obsessing over my mistakes. But we were watching a lot of movies together! It couldn’t have been terrible all the time.
We watched Creed, John Wick, and then the entire Scream franchise. We binge-watched The Twilight Saga over a weekend and saw Dune Part II in IMAX.
I was secretly stressed about a lot of things, and poorly maintaining a cover. I needed to watch movies for my self-imposed goal, be a good partner in my relationship, keep the course with my high school students, and balance all of the other tasks that I was taking on at work. There were also my parents, who weren’t helping at all.
I blew up. My poorly-constructed façade collapsed into a messy pile of half-assed behaviors. I lashed out at others. I was accused of being manipulative by my partner. Pretending I had my life together (when I never really did) is manipulation, right? I had no idea. I was always pretending I had my life together. She did not like that I said that.
We watched Challengers in a crowded theater.
How come I was able to enjoy movies so much, but as soon as they ended, nothing else was fun? Why couldn’t I be a person who enjoyed life? Why was my inner turmoil turning into pain for others? Why was I trying to distract myself instead of trying to fix things?
I had a mental breakdown. I called my boss crying. I skipped work, rented a car, and drove for hours. I came home to a partner that cared (but not really).
I went to work the next day. I had to teach. Mental health got put on the back burner.
The semester ended. Most of my students got A’s in the class. One student failed. I saw myself in him. I gave him as many chances as I could. I saw a sad, stressed out kid getting pulled in all directions. He wasn’t able to finish any of his final assignments.
I couldn’t bring myself to enter an F into the grade book.
His counselor did it instead.
My partner and I got into an argument before watching Inside Out 2. We sat quietly in the theater, and then had another conflict on the walk home.
We broke up in July, while I was recovering from a surgery. That was another thing I was incredibly stressed about.
I was really low. I could not get out of bed. I was in so much physical and mental pain. I was behind on my movies, I was single, and I had no one to lean on. I had stopped hanging with friends months ago in an effort to avoid stress.
How much lower could I get? I didn’t want to find out. I scheduled an appointment with a psychiatrist and got a prescription for antidepressants.
Did the antidepressants work? Not really. Mentally, I felt better, but I was sleeping less than 5 hours every night. Was it newfound serotonin or sleep-deprived hysteria? I don’t know.
I thought about movies I wanted to watch, but all I had the energy for was crawling into bed after work. I was asked by my psychiatrist to up my dose. It should even out, he said.
After two days on a new dose, I was running on only three hours of sleep. I tossed and turned at night, freaking out about the rest I wasn’t getting. I floated between my apartment and work like a ghost. I don’t remember what I did that week.
I emailed my doctor. Out of Office until September 17.
I stopped taking the meds.
I hadn’t watched a movie since June. It was now September.
I was definitely depressed.
I spent the little time left of summer trying to pull myself back together. I recovered from my surgery. I got ready for the new school year. At least I wasn’t teaching this fall semester. I caught up with old friends.
I flipped through the pages of my journal. In retrospect, it’s so obvious that I was burned out and depressed. I was so busy trying to trudge through each day, each week, that I never looked up. Without the little help that the insomnia-inducing antidepressants gave me, I’m catching myself slipping into old habits. I haven’t really cleaned the apartment since the end of July. Who knows when I last vacuumed the place.
Yet somehow I feel different. I feel… better? Maybe it’s an apathetic form of self acceptance. I’m not well, obviously. But I understand how bad the situation is now, and I think a bit of clarity helps.
I don’t have my life together, and that’s just fine.
Last weekend I went to the movies. It’s the 40th week of the year, and I have only watched 29 films. Who cares?
I’m probably right where I started, but now I’m a little wiser.
At least I feel okay.
