I am on the edge of my life, feeling suffocated by everything around me.

It’s been about 10 months since I moved to Calgary. A lot of things have gone well—I got a job, I’ve met people, and some of them have become friends, while others have moved away. As always, my mood follows my temperament. I quit going to English conversation meetings. I never expected life to be kind or simple, but these days, its complexity is driving me crazy.

Honestly, I can’t complain about what I have right now. I’m not struggling with my visa status thanks to my ex, I have a decent job as a nurse, and I can speak English. But still, something always nags at me—an emptiness. No one can fill it, and no one can help me fill it. I’m struggling with my ego. That part of me always drags me into depression.

I’ve been trying to date, putting myself out there for the past few months, but nothing really happened. I told myself I wasn’t in a rush—but honestly, I was. Maybe I’ve been lying to myself the whole time. I desperately wanted to meet someone, but at the same time, I was scared to trust anyone.

The first guy was mean. The second was overly sensitive. The third ghosted me. The fourth turned out to be taken and had yellow fever. The fifth also ghosted me. I bought a dress and thought I was ready for a relationship. One guy even asked me why I was on the app. I had clearly written in my profile that I was looking for a long-term relationship. You idiot. Please read before you ask.

I stayed home all day today. It was boring, even though I know I have tons of things to take care of in my life. I tend to judge others harshly—but not myself. I won’t deny it: I’ve been lazy. People say it’s okay to take a break sometimes, to get through the next day. But I feel anxious. I’m in a foreign country, not a perfect English speaker, struggling with work, and I don’t have many friends to spend time with.

In the end, this struggle might come from my own excessive desire—without having truly tried hard enough. I hate that about myself. I keep dreaming of more while doing so little. I feel miserable. I question what I’m doing here. I’m not happy with my emotional ups and downs. The air feels suffocating, and I feel like I’m standing at the edge of my life. I felt like I might die if I stayed home today. So I came to a café. I needed to do something—anything—and tell the truth to someone.

Writing always helps. It lets me spill my emotions and find the truth I need to face.

My head won’t stop spinning. The thoughts just won’t stop. And deep down, I know what I need to do to face this. But sometimes, I want to give up—just shut everything down. Am I depressed? Maybe. But for what?

I love seeing myself with crystal clarity. So—what do I really want?

I want to be better.I want to have my own place.

I want to get a part-time job with benefits.

I want to make friends who were born and raised here.

I want a boyfriend who is trustworthy and financially stable—just like me.

I want to speak and understand English better.

I know everything takes time—time and enough effort to make it happen. The truth hurts: I haven’t done my best, honestly. But now, I can see clearly what I need to do. No more laziness. Life will always bring anxiety, but I know the answer: always try to move forward. Step by step.

When you’re in the dark, remember what you’ve already overcome. Keep walking. Keep moving forward. One day, you’ll look back and giggle—or laugh out loud—remembering this time. And at the end of your life, you’ll say, “The picnic was fun, and it was enough.” You’ve got this, baby. I’m giving you the biggest hug. 💛