Bleh…. With a side of Blah is what the last six weeks have been for me. Clinically diagnosed as depression with a side of anxiety, mild OCD tendencies and night terrors, one can imagine how charming, unstable and joyous I am to be around right now. The inability to concentrate, focus or complete a task is nothing short of frustrating. Time has slowed down to almost a complete stop and I would give anything to fast forward to a time when I start to feel normal again. Food has zero taste, which is fine because I have zero appetite anyways. I crave grey skies, clouds and rain and instead the sun bursts forth with its scalding rays every damn day. There hasn’t been rain in Ontario for weeks and it looks as though I live in the desert, my pretty little hometown looks like a bleak post-industrial wasteland of burnt out lawns, dead gardens and dried up dreams. Maybe I am suffering from Seasonal Affective Disorder in reverse?

Shall I continue? Yes. I think I shall.

My bank account has finally imploded on itself. I self funded a humanitarian trip to Jordan because rather then do the intelligent thing and take the stipend offered for the work, I 5008fa8970f03ca0d8fa6d22a390d8b6rejected it in my typical altruistic but stupid fashion claiming “the money should be streamed directly into the project, and if they have to pay for volunteers then they should actually just be hiring locally”. Noble, I know. Not so noble when you have rent to make, car payments to be shelled out and tuition due in three weeks. Additionally, after finally reaching a place where I could envision enjoying public displays of affection and adopting a Tico baby; my potential for a ‘fairytale love affair’ has been impeded again by a bullshitting cad who clogged up my social network… both virtual and real. Unfinished projects sit on my desk dusty and incomprehensible. My inbox is jammed up with nothing short of 100 requests of which I feel zero obligation or drive to respond too. I have a parasite which I picked up on my last “humanitarian” effort which is still beating the shit out of my intestines, making me worried that it isn’t a parasite but actually a terminal illness… and to top it all off, there is no one I can legitimately punch in the face, so I have accrued bad karma wishing divorce and bankruptcy on my frenemies instead.

With all of this amazingness going on for me, I am still shocked that I can’t get a single man to take me out for a drink. I mean since the depression has fallen on me, and my anxiety attacks have rocked my core, I have actually started looking like a fembot. There is always a “glass half full” side to crazy town, and weight loss is mine. Sidebar: If you consider the fact that one can be the most magnificent person in a room and still manage to leave without a drink or a phone number a silver lining.

I do.

Consider it a silver lining that is.

This is what I have learned after many, many years of back-to-back disappointments and the mental health crises that they induce:

  1. One must look fabulous, regardless.   As a #single #puma in your 30’s; looking fabulous is the only thing that truly stands between you and other people’s pity.
  2. Looking fantastic is actually really easy to do if you are blessed with a decent breast-waist-buttock ratio and you own a pair sparkly flip flops, a flowing hippy dress, a colourful refiki, some silver jewelry, mascara and can achieve a decent tan.

Obviously, inner peace is, of course preferable to skin-deep perfection. One can’t have everything however, and when one is leaving for Jordan in a week and starting back into academics in a month, one can’t even afford to leave the house. So it is imperative to look sexy to take back some control, to boost one’s ego out of the gutter and to be able to look at oneself in the mirror and think, “this shit can’t last forever”?

Maintaining a fine balance between depression and optimism is an act of bravery. It takes 282546-ee8e8fdf98894d72a2f0e63fb3ce12d2resilience and courage and a moisturizer that will help restore a glow to your face even if it is cosmetic (only you will know). Looking fabulous, regardless, is what you learn as a#single woman; it is a lesson that will prepare you for all of life’s hardships – in way that regular sex with a man (who will most definitely, sleep with someone else as soon as he gets the chance) will not.

I promise if you take my advice and make the effort to look amazeballs every chance you get, it will eventually pull you out of your funk. This is because you are able to take selfies and post them to Facebook or Instagram and look like you have your shit together and have moved on…. because everything on social media is completely accurate and true… and believable…

Yours as as a #FemBot with #Optimism

Franki Figgs.

~ All artwork owned and distributed by Blackraptor Art