Am I ready?

Shayne's been on my mind alot lately, but in a good way. Maybe.

My newfound appreciation of life has left me feeling very much like I did before I became depressed, and lately I've been thinking "well, the only thing that's missing is Shayne!" For weeks whenever this question comes up, I've just said, "well, a few more weeks," but now I'm wondering if it really is a matter of a few weeks until I ask her.

Clearly things are much more complicated than that, but really, I've begun wondering if maybe I'm healthy enough to consider asking Shayne out on that "First Date: Redux" I proposed in some grief-stricken stupor a while back. Would I be ok if she rejected me? Is there any chance of it going well? What if she just wants to be friends again? What if my schedule gets in the way?

Sooo many questions, too few answers. That's why I really wanted to talk to my shrink, to talk to him about this.

She's been on my mind quite a bit, but it's no longer a torturous thought. Today I thought about her so much, I actually got sick with nervousness. I'm not sure that that's a sign that this isn't a good idea, however. When I think about her, I'm not thinking about the past anymore. I'm thinking about the future, about the potential that's there. I'm excited. I don't mourn anymore. Is it so bad to think about a person like this? After all, I would be so excited/nervous whenever I thought about Shayne in the beginning of our relationship. Maybe it's normal to be thinking about someone alot, and getting all worked up about someone, when you like them and you think there may be a shot?

Of course, there is the matter of time. I'm leaving in under two months now. We'd have a month, month and a half at best together, and even then my schedule's not that great. Would it be worth it? Would she think it would be worth it? I say, I wouldn't mind enjoying it while I can, but I'm not sure she'd want to get her heart broken again when I leave.

I can't wait to talk to Dr. Freedman about all this.

Vito's Ordination Song

Driving up last Thursday, Vito's Ordination Song by Sufjan Stevens began playing. At the end, it just repeats the following four lines over and over, in the most comforting voice imaginable:

Rest in my arms
Sleep in my bed
There's a design
To what I did and said

Ostensibly the song is about Sufjan telling his friend, Vito, the depth of his love for him, and in fact comparing it to Christ's love. But, when I heard that, the longing I had for those lyrics to be true, for there to be a God singing to me "Rest, there's a design," it was simply overwhelming. I nearly cried, driving up Rt. 44 in Barkhamsted.

I'm not a religious man. But lately, this whole depression thing has made me wish I was one. The idea that, despite all that has gone on, there's a design to this, that I don't have to worry or despair because while things may be bad now, it's for the best, and I just need to trust in something more powerful than myself, that idea spoke directly to me. It's exactly what I want to be true, and exactly what I felt wasn't true. My world had lost all order, and I was powerless. Even thinking about it now is making me emotional.

When I was a child, my parents would come in to pick up the pieces. Now, they can help with money, but my problems are my own. I want some sort of authority figure to come in, pat me on the head, tell me everything's ok, and let me rest. Maybe it's part of becoming a man, but I want to be taken care of, and I'm struggling with letting go and learning how to be self-reliant.

I've even strongly considered going to church. I still intend to. During a particularly bad mood, I made a promise that if things turned around today, I would begin to attend, and that day they did. I'm not saying God heard me, but I am respectful enough that I decided I need to go.

See, here's the thing. If there's one thing I'm missing in my life, it's a support network I can rely on. It used to be my friends, but they're far away now. I want to feel like I have people to talk to, people who love me. I know I do, but, and I can't really explain it, I feel like church would help. It's the whole community thing - to know that there's a room full of people who care about you, simply because it's the right thing to do. To know that there's a guy, a pastor or whatever, who would freely do whatever he can to help me, simply out of love for his fellow man -- well, that's a powerful thing.

Of course, it would need to be the right church, and the right pastor. I would need to shop around for a bit. But having heard stories, and having seen my evangelical relatives, I think what I'm looking for is a pastor who is faithful because of Jesus's love. He feels overwhelming love, and wants to imbue you with that love. The political side of my evangelical relatives can be ugly, but the love they have for everyone and everything on this planet is incredible, and it's not something I see in my secular life.

But yes, I have begun to flirt with religion, if only for the comfort it gives. I'm not sure I can bring myself to believe in the existence of an omnipotent being, or that Jesus was magical. But let me tell you what I can believe in.

If a group of people take Jesus's teaching's seriously, and support eachother, help eachother and those around them, truly love them for who they are, and fight injustice, help the needy, the poor, the weak, etc., if a group of people try to learn from this man's teachings, then you can rest in God's arms, sleep soundly, because God is in each and every one of those souls. You don't need an omnipotent being when you have eachother.


I think I'm going to attend a few services while I'm in Europe. And I think I'll meet up with that evangelist in Bejing my cousins know. Maybe I'll find myself closer to God.

Feeling Better

I'm beginning to feel better. Actually, alot better. That feeling I had driving up to Albany last Thursday? It's been sticking with me, to varying degrees. I'm still thinking about Shayne alot, but not obsessively, and more importantly not maddeningly. The thought of her excites me more than anything else. She's this cute girl who I think I might have a shot with, and I'm getting over all the history with her. I'm thinking about the future, and it looks good.

At work, I enjoy joking around with my coworkers. I'm beginning to force myself to get more sleep, and as a result I feel more energetic and upbeat. In fact, the reason I haven't written here in a while is because I haven't felt a compulsion to. Or, at least, I've felt sleep was more important than therapy (and I do consider this therapeutic). I'll write a few posts tonight to make up for it, I promise.

Sleep, food, and keeping busy has helped alot. In fact, computer games have lost some of their appeal to me. I feel like I should be out working, or with friends. You know, actually doing something with my life. I feel more... grounded, I feel like I'm standing on my own two feet again. Instead of struggling, I'm surviving, and surviving quite easily at that. My moments of happiness are not tinged with sadness, and I have moments of daring, joy, and even (gasp!) pride. I feel like, while things may not be ideal, on the whole I'm doing well. I'm busy, and I'm enjoying life, and while I may not have alot, I have enough.

So, this situation poses a few questions.

Is this gonna be permanent? How resilient is this? (How resilient am I?) Right after the pills kicked in for the first time, I felt wonderful. I felt even better than this. Then I had an awkward hookup with Shayne which ended very badly, and I felt worse than ever. A week or two later she had sex with another guy, and I hit rock bottom.

My feelings of joy proved temporary and fleeting. I don't want to start putting myself out there only to find the slightest thing will ruin my months of recovery.

Relatedly...

Am I ready to interact with Shayne again?
I'll cover this in greater detail in another post, but in short, I wish I knew. Again, a slight rejection from Shayne tipped me way way down, but at some point I should be "better", and ready to interact with women again.

Am I really "better?"
Or do I still need a few weeks? It's been so long since I've felt anything like this, I wish I could tell if this is good mental health, or if I'm still depressed at all. I don't feel too depressed, but it's hard to tell sometimes what's normal and what's unhealthy. And if there's one thing I'm good at, it's at deluding myself into thinking crazy thoughts are perfectly normal. '

Basically, I'm really worried about the medium-term picture. Long-term, I know I've made big progress on the path to recovery. Short term, I don't see anything happening that will bring me down. I still need to take my pills, but I'm in a good place. Over the next few weeks though, I don't know whether this is going to improve, stabilize, or just end up being a temporary blip. Am I ready for a relationship yet? And if not, what do I need to feel in order to be ready? Can I be friends with Shayne, or even something more, or is that just going to fuck everything up again?

I wish it wasn't going to snow tonight. I was supposed to see my psychiatrist tomorrow morning, and now it looks like I won't be able to. I really want to talk to him about this stuff.

Recovery can be really difficult. But at least now I have a bit of pride. I can take pride in my hard work, pride in my skill, pride in myself. I need to make sure I hang on to that. I lost that a while before I lost Shayne.

Maybe that's the answer. If I do start to look for Shayne, or whatever, I need to be sure to keep my pride. I'm a good person, dammit. I'm a good friend, a good worker, a good boyfriend, and a good lover. *grin* Clichéd though it may be, the only person who can take my pride away is myself, and I have to be sure I don't do that again.

Serenity Now!!

Today I drove up to Albany to see Dad argue his case in front of the New York Court of Appeals, the highest court in the state. It was a real honor, and I was really impressed. He got hammered by the judges. The questions were relentless. I'm not sure who's going to win, but it was really neat to see my dad being a lawyer -- talking with his equals, nervous. It was a step down from his usual roles, as either a tireless mule or a small man (when he's being beaten down by his girlfriend) or a near-superhuman figure. At that moment I could really relate to him. I have been in his exact same position before, and it was gratifying to see that he performed about as well as I think I would have had I been in his shoes. That is to say, I saw him as a peer, and it was an interesting change of perspective.

But that's not really what I want to talk about.

Albany is a gorgeous city. It reminded me alot of Quebec City really, with a New England twist. Even better though was the drive up. I took Rt. 44 to Rt. 8 north, through Northwestern CT and the Berkshires. It was spectacular. The trees all had just a bit of snow on them, I was driving small windy two-lane roads through mountains and forests, with majestic frozen lakes right next to me. For a while I was following a river, and every hundred feet or so it would peak out. My laptop was picking out all the best songs, "Vito's Ordination Song" by Sufjan Stevens standing out in particular. Calming, peaceful, happy, beautiful music. And for the first time in a long, long time, I was happy.

Not happy in the sense that something great just happened. No, perhaps a better word is contentment. Serenity. I thought of Shayne a bit on the trip, but it didn't overwhelm me. Instead, I was able to remember the good times, and when my thoughts began to turn sour I chuckled and was able to change my focus to the good things in my life. But aside from those brief moments, I didn't have to struggle to stay positive. For once, everything was right with the world.

And then it hit me. That's what has changed. It's not that my friends have moved away, or Shayne has left me, or that I'm lonely, or fat, or anything like that. No, it's that I've lost that sense of comfort, of security, of everything being right with the world.

(Don't cha just love the near-daily epiphanies? But I think this one's gonna stick.)

I haven't written too much about this, but all of Junior year I was single, and yet I didn't care at all. I wasn't particularly happy, but I was just fine. I didn't spend too much time with my friends, but I knew where to find them, and I enjoyed the time I did spend with them. I had my computer games, and I was content. I would say the first half of Senior year, when I had Shayne and my memories of the Ned Lamont campaign, I was happier, but still. Getting to where I was Junior year is a good goal - I didn't have a girlfriend, but I was ok with that. I had my ups, my downs, and my midpoints. All in all, it was an above-average year, a year where I was beginning to become comfortable in my skin.

And I'm no longer comfortable in my skin. I haven't felt like I did on that drive in months. I wasn't distracted from my thoughts. I've been happy during this period of depression, but always with the potential to quickly slide back into it. It's hard to describe - it's like I'm at the edge of a vast abyss, standing on a very rickety ledge supported by pills and recent, temporary events. Without those pills, and without those temporary events, I would be in the pits of depression. And I can tell. The happiness itself has a hollow quality about it, like it's tempered by it's fleeting nature.

But today wasn't like that. Today was sure and strong and proud. Today was better. For an hour, I was better. I recognized that feeling afterwards, realized the last time I felt that I was walking down Founders Quad, knowing that everything was ok and that I was in a good place. The natural beauty of the quad, like the natural beauty of that road, would impart a sense of rightness. And whenever I was stressed, or worried, I just needed to walk down that road with a plan in my head, and realize that everything was going to be ok, because I knew where I was, and where I was going.

Well, now I have very rough ideas of both. It's a scary thing. And no, everything doesn't feel fine, it doesn't feel like everything is necessarily going to be ok. Maybe the sudden nature of Shayne's dumping me, or the way I went in a week from a girlfriend and a job to no girlfriend and no job prospects, or how over the course of the past nine months my plan, my knowledge of where I was going, how all that got turned on it's head, maybe these things shook up my sense of the world? The world went from being a good place, a comforting place, to a scary, random place, where pits of horrors could open up in a second? You can never feel safe.

I want to feel safe, secure, sure of myself and the world around me. I realize that might be alot to ask, but it shouldn't be. And those four things are good goals to work towards achieving. I would say right now I'm on track, I have a plan, I just need to start to put that plan into action and internalize the fact that yes, I am ok. Yes, things will work out. Everything will be ok. And most importantly, even if everything isn't, well, that doesn't matter too much, so long as everything's right with the world.

A good day?

Real quick, since I do want to go to sleep.

Today I noticed for the first time in a while, I was coming up with comebacks, joking around, cursing, and generally feeling accepted, like one of the guys. When I was cleaning up with the two people who were, until recently, the only two other males at the store, we were laughing, telling dirty jokes, and generally just getting along great. It felt good. I need to learn how to do that more often.

Might another thought of mine just interject here however? The above paragraph, while encouraging, pisses me off. I'm tired of having to relearn over and over again how to interact with people. Twice now I've gotten depressed, and twice now I've had to completely remake my persona. And it's a lot of work to craft a persona! How the hell did it get to a place where I have to learn how to be happy? I'm JOLLY dammit. I am the freaking living god of happiness. What the hell happened?

And if this is all in my head, then how the hell did I let this happen?

I can't let this happen again. Let's learn again how to live my life feeling satisfaction and joy, and then lets learn how to never forget it again.

Why don't I just jump off a bridge?

It's sweet that there are people out there that care about me. But sometimes it can be quite creepy.

My manager, Kristy, is 32 with two kids, yet she looks like a 21-year old fox. Don't really know why I had to mention it, except I've always had a slight thing for her.

Anyways, Kristy actually pulls me aside today and tells me, "Joe, you seem so sad, and for no good reason. Just as a bit of advice, do you think girls like sad sacks?" First of all, I know they don't; that's why I'm single right now instead of fucking Shayne. But she goes on...

"You're a good looking guy, funny, sweet, caring, but you're always so down on yourself. The only thing keeping you from having a girlfriend is you. Honestly, I worry about you. You seem like the kind of guy who's going to jump off a bridge!"

I didn't really know how to respond to that. Initially I was flattered. I really like and respect Kristy, and to know she cares about me like that is really sweet. But the more I think about it, the more bothered I am about the whole thing. I'm getting tired of people telling me I'm not myself. I know I'm not myself, I know I'm depressed, I know I have a problem. That's why I spend $30 a session in co-pays for my psychiatrist. And believe it or not, I've considered jumping off a bridge, and it's not something I want to go back to.

Nor is it pleasant to think that these people will forever think of me as this sad, lonely kid. I used to be Jolly, and I really did like that persona. To me, this is a blip, a low period, yet to them, I'm going to be thirty and staring over the abyss.

Truth be told, I worry about that thought. That this will never end, that this overbearing depression is the real me, and that my period of happiness was the blip. And I don't like knowing that for all of my coworkers, I am that permanently depressed person that I'm trying so hard to avoid becoming.

---------------------------------

I also want to talk about her supposedly positive comments, because this is a concept that I'm only just beginning to realize, and I'm struggling with the implications. I'm beginning to reach the conclusion that this is all in my head. All of it, the awkwardness, the depression, the loneliness, all of it is self-perpetuating. None of it is based in anything concrete, it's all just something that reinforces itself. I'm depressed because I'm lonely, I'm lonely because I'm awkward and depressed, and I'm awkward because I'm depressed. It's a vicious cycle, so to speak.

But what does this mean? For one, Rui's "fake it till you make it" comment is accurate. If I put my faith in this theory, then all I need to do is break the cycle. Choose to not let the loneliness and the awkwardness bother me, and I'll stop being depressed, which will lead me to be less awkward and, eventually, less lonely. So over the past few days, I have been trying to do just that. Allow myself to be joyful, not dwell on the negative, take pleasure in the little things, enjoy the company of my coworkers and friends.

And yet it's never that simple, is it?

No, I still find myself longing for Shayne, and having a worse mood overall, and feeling awkward and lonely and depressed.

What shocks me especially is the longing for Shayne. The rest I can handle. In fact, my mood has improved quite a bit, even if it's not where it should be, and my feelings of awkwardness have begun to go away. (At least, I'm beginning to accept them.) But still, at least a few times a day, I find myself thinking of her. Sometimes wistfully, sometimes bemusedly, but sometimes bitterly, and sometimes in mourning. Once a day at least I mourn her, miss her, ache for her presence, her joy, her laugh, her warmth. I tell myself I'll allow a little bit of mourning. But her presence seems to fade so slowly, if at all.

And so I work, trying to keep myself busy. Even as I'm writing this, I begin to feel self-pity, and I take a deep breath, put on a smile, and force myself to recognize that there's nothing wrong with this morally, that I'm not a bad person for feeling this way.

But I worry that this new strategy will be completely ineffective in dealing with Shayne, and I don't know what to do. Maybe nothing. Maybe I'm just not done missing her. But I know I can't get better until I stop thinking of her in such a sad way.

Maybe if I got more sleep, and worked less, I might be able to do something? Get something going in my life? Feel better?

I wish.

High Pressure Area Moving in From Canada

I don't want to give Rui credit for turning me around, but ever since he talked to me, and I thought about what he said, and I talked about my thoughts with my psychologist, I've been feeling alot better. More... comfortable with myself, and my situation in life. It's hardly an ideal situation, but it's not an awful one either. Truth be told, I have alot going for me.

Today was really nice. I got to sleep in, which made my life feel so much better. I think I might try to get to bed by one each night, instead of two, so that I can feel this good all the time. When I got to work, I sampled for forty five minutes straight. Normally I'm ready to collapse after ten minutes. Then, after my break, I just got really aggressive in my sales. I broke through, and instead of just showing people product, I began to actually sell to them. And the whole time I felt good about myself. I was laughing and joking around with my coworkers, and while I may have been quiet compared to some of them, compared to how silent I normally am I felt like I was just one of the gang. It felt good.

And then I went out for dinner with friends, and felt accepted. I enjoyed being with them, I enjoyed talking with them, joking around with them. I wasn't sad at all (except when the conversation turned to how Shayne and I broke up, of course).

The best part of today? I actually felt joy every now and then, something I have missed a great deal these long months.

It got me thinking in the past hour or so that maybe I should see if I could tolerate being around Shayne. Who knows, maybe I could reignite something. But I need to keep my head on straight about this. That will not happen. It simply wouldn't work. I feel stronger than I have in months, and I can't risk slipping up again. I've made too much progress. In a few weeks? Maybe. But a few days of happiness does not a recovery make.

I've gone from hurricanes to thunderclouds to grey skies, and finally, finally, I can see the sun shining through the clouds. It's still cloudy, but it looks like there's a lull in the storm; I can't tell exactly, but it may be passing. God I hope so.

Man Boobs

On a related note to the post below, I really wish I had the money for male breast reduction surgery. One of the main impediments to my losing weight has always been the knowledge that even if it went perfectly, I'd still have these hideous things. Shayne may not have noticed them for a whole year (it's funny how love blinds you to the imperfections), but they've always made me incredibly self conscious.

I just want to be able to wear a t-shirt without feeling fat. Even when I was down to 190 lbs, my stomach wasn't that bad while my boobs were just distracting. And don't get me started on how ridiculous I look at the beach with my shirt off. It's one of the main reasons I've been to the beach so rarely. It's also why the sweatshirt is my winter garment of choice. Anything body hugging just makes me look like a woman. I know I'm supposed to get past my insecurities, but this is one insecurity I just want to fix.

That, plus losing weight, would make me happier. Not necessarily happy, but happier.

Now I just need to find $4000. Donations can be left at the Teavana store at West Farms Mall, Farmington, CT. We do not take Discover.

(Maybe I can get it for cheap in Thailand while I'm over there!)

Now psychologist-approved!

So I went to see the shrink again for the first time in a month.

I had flaked on my last appointment, and he had sounded pretty pissed at the time. I was seriously worried that he secretly hated me, and was just listening to me bitch in order to get paid.

Good news: either he really doesn't mind me, or he's a good actor, because I felt like we were back on track today.

And, he said not only was ignoring my insecurities healthy, it's the key to happiness. (At least according to Zen Buddhists. I should really pick up that Zen Buddhism book at Teavana.) So now I don't have to feel guilty about, well, anything that isn't my fault. Like feeling guilty about feeling guilty. That shit needs to stop. When you're apologizing for your mere presence, as I have been known to do, you know you have a problem. The solution, oddly enough, is to just stop caring so much. Stop caring that you're awkward, and annoying, and meek.

This is the revelation for me: You can keep on feeling like you're awkward, or a burden, or hopeless. Just so long as you don't let these thoughts take over, just so long as you don't care too much about these facts. Am I a lazy unappreciative fat ass who has a really hard time with women and fucked up the one great relationship he's ever had? Oh yeah, that's me. I just need to be able to say, that might be true, but I'm still a good person. And I'm getting there.

Attitude

For some bizarre reason Rui's words have stuck with me. I don't know why, maybe it was because I see some of myself in him and visa-versa, but I really believed a lot of what he said.

So I've been reflecting alot lately. Or more accurately not reflecting.

I've been thinking lately that perhaps I have an attitude problem. I'm depressed, unbalanced, sure. That's why moods will randomly come over me. But lately I've been feeling merely OK with periods of depression, instead of great with periods of depression. Perhaps this is because I have a miserable attitude, because I'm focused on what's wrong with my life, what's wrong with me. I have passively accepted the fact that I'm depressed and miserable, instead of fighting it. Well, maybe it's time I transition into fighting this thing.

I had issues when I was at my peak, right after the Ned Lamont campaign. I was just over alot of it. I buried some of it, and had gotten over some of it. Maybe I should just bury some of these issues, ignore them and move on. This will calm me down, make me more relaxed and likable, and thereby address some of my feelings of inadequacy and nonacceptance.

Am I in a place where I can say, fuck it, I'm alright, I'm in a good place, and it's time to just throw it all to the wind? It's weird. To say it's time to move on and get over it, to become happy sounds wrong. To say it's time to say fuck it sounds much more right. Because that's what it's about. I'm not moving on. I'm not getting over anything. I will still feel sad, still feel depressed, still miss Shayne. I just will stop investing so much of myself in these emotions. Instead of making my life about being depressed, I will make my life about work, travel, friends, prepping for school.

Is that healthy? Shayne brought these feelings up, encouraged me to address these deep-seated insecurities. And after having done so, what I'm proposing is to basically bury them again, unsolved. Or is it unrealistic to think I can solve these depressing thoughts, and instead better to just put them away and have them slowly fade? I don't know, I'll talk to the shrink tomorrow.

So maybe I just need an attitude adjustment. Maybe I just need to accept my situation, accept how I feel. Not fight it, but accept it, and begin to make the best of it. No, not even make the best of it, but choose to stop bemoaning and mourning my sorry life. It's not my sorry life, it's just my life, and I'm in a rough patch, but I'm getting over it, and good times are ahead.

So, let me give it a try. To say all this time, I just had a bad attitude might make me feel a little selfish, pathetic even. But it shouldn't. That's just the way it was. Accept it, don't bemoan it.

This might just work. I can tell even now that seeing or talking to Shayne would ruin this entirely, so sadly I can't do that. And my situation with women isn't going to improve anytime soon. But when you're looking for women, at best you get pussy. You find good girlfriends when you're not looking. So, I just need to be patient. Hopefully I'll find someone in the first semester at Macalester. But the nice thing is, that is far more likely to happen if I'm in a place where I don't need it to happen.

So, to all my readers out there, I'm sorry that this has been a rambling mess of a post. I might go back and edit it at some point. But I'm excited to talk to my doc about this. I hope he agrees. I think this might work.

Inferior Comebacks

Ok, so I'm actually going to try to tackle something today. Because I know a coworker of mine, Rui, might be reading this, this post is dedicated to him. He has inspired me to make this today's topic, and so the world shall revolve around him once more.

I'm a pussy. I'm a goddamn weak little pussy. I command zero respect from anyone. I have always failed in leadership positions because of this. People seem to think it's hilarious to make fun of me, and I've never really known why. Maybe it's because I don't fight back. I don't know, I've never been able to think on my feet like that. Many people (like Rui) enjoy going back and forth, topping each other's insults so that in the end both people end up feeling closer, laughing at eachother, knowing they've dealt as good as they got. Me, I've never been able to dish, only to awkwardly receive. Sometimes I don't know where the line is for people, and I'm afraid of crossing it. Other times, I'm just not in the mood to make fun of someone. Someone attacks me, and my reaction isn't to attack back, my reaction is first: What the hell? second: Fuck you, I'm just gonna get the hell outta here.

Maybe I am a bit effeminate. I don't know. I do know that in general, I feel unmanly way more than I feel manly. But I'm digressing slightly.

See, lets say someone decides to make fun of something awkward I said or did. Chances are good I realize that what just happened was embarrassing, and while you may think its all in good fun, I just want to get the hell past it. I've already kicked myself for doing the stupid thing, and you're just piling on. At the same time, you don't faze me at all, because chances are I've already thought the exact insult you just hurled.

So here's where it gets interesting. I just take it. I just sit there and say, yup, you're right, I'm a jackass, I'm a loser, I'm a pathetic single guy. Because while you may not mean it, I do. So I'll just sit there and say I'm sorry. God I hate that I say that so much. I'm sorry. But I don't know what else to say. I can't think of anything witty. I can't ignore it. If I try to say a comeback, chances are good I'll end up making a bigger fool of myself.

So I slowly get my self-esteem crushed. Or do I?

Is it the other way around? Is it my crushed self-esteem that leads to this? I think so. I think if I felt better about myself, people's words wouldn't affect me so much, and I'd be more willing to put myself out there and try to comeback. I wouldn't need to say I'm sorry so much, because I wouldn't feel like I did much of anything wrong. Right now there are times when my mere existence is something wrong that I want to apologize for. That wouldn't happen if I had more self-esteem.

So where did I get this idea that I'm so inferior to everybody? Why is it that everything I do needs apologizing for, that instead of fighting back I accept people's insults, even when made in jest? I wish I knew. I hate to say it started with Jackie's rejection, and actually come to think of it, while that greatly exacerbated things, this was a common thread throughout my life. I never hung out with the cooler kids. I have always felt inferior to others. There have always been people I've admired who have always been a whole universe away, people who's customs and traditions (like the whole comeback culture) seemed foreign and incomprehensible. In high school I never knew where the hung out, or what they did after school. In Jr. High and elementary school I barely talked to them, yet I wanted to be them. I know it's cliche, but it's true.

I think this is something I need to talk to my shrink about. I think this might be a bit much for the blog. I don't want to answer the question: Am I truly inferior? because I would probably have to say no, even if I feel otherwise. And I'm not sure how to start living my life acknowledging that fact. I know that I didn't feel inferior after Ned Lamont, and that I lost Shayne in large part because I slowly became meek and pathetic, slowly began to feel inferior.

So I guess the $64,000 question is: how do I go about not feeling so inferior? (BTW, I realize this is very close to asking how do I stop feeling depressed, but I almost feel like I can manage to stop feeling inferior, as opposed to just ending this depression.) (BTW, I think I've hit upon something very key to my depression, that it's all about a massive inferiority complex. The whole thing started when I got rejected from my top college choices, then had to listen to my friends talk about all the great colleges they got into while I had no idea what I was going to do, then Shayne and I started to unravel, then John Edwards went sour, then she broke up with me... it's all about feeling pathetic, a loser, inferior to others.)

The answer: I don't know. That's what I need to talk to my shrink about. Meds will help. But what I need to do is relearn how to assert myself. To stand up for myself. Instead of trying to sneak through each day, I need to seize each day.

I'm going to stop here. I've run out of real answers, at least ones I can express in words. I need to talk to my shrink about it. All I can say is that I've identified what aspect of my thought process is faulty, and I need to slowly change how I perceive myself, both individually and in comparison to others. It's a state of mind I need to achieve, and the first step is recognizing that I'm not inferior to others. Forget about feeling inferior because of Shayne for a bit, that's another subject to deal with that's just too difficult without alot of analysis. But as far as feeling inferior to everyone? You know, I used to worry alot about being too arrogant. Now I think I need to swing the other way. I went to a top notch prep school, I'm smart as hell, going to a great school next year, I've got a great computer repair gig, and yeah, my social life isn't great, but I have friends, and I just don't have time to see them much. I'm a damn hard worker, despite the fact that I call myself lazy all the time, and while this year may not have turned out how I wanted it to, I'm on track now and I'm gonna do some amazing things.

Like I said, I'll deal with the whole inferiority and women thing another time, but I need to begin to recognize that, while I'm not exactly pretty cool, I'm just fine, and there's nothing about others that makes them better than me. I do need to somehow integrate women into that, though. That'll be a major stumbling block otherwise.

I need to see my shrink soon.

Family

So I think I'll do something besides bitch about how tired I am when it's my own damn fault, or about how sad and lonely and pathetic and miserable I am.

I went down to see my cousins in Philly today. God damn they're a nice bunch. Loving, as always. Aunt Patty probably thinks I'm going to hell, (they're born-agains), but god damn do they love me. Nicest homophobes you'll ever meet. It was so refreshing to have a sense of family, if only for a few hours. I have my mom, and kind of my dad, but one of the things I loved about being with Shayne was how I became part of her family. I could go to her mom with problems, I was always welcome at her house.

And I was so jealous of her family. True, she was constantly stressed out because of one family issue or another, but she had literally dozens of people who loved her unconditionally, and would never intentionally harm her. I have one. I know, I know, some people out there have none, but damn if I feel like hearing the same damn advice over and over again just isn't quite enough. Shayne had this circle of people to rely on, and I felt so alone once she left me.

So today was refreshing, in that sense. Dad was a little distant and buisness-like, as he has been lately. I'd guess it's a combo of Pearl's influence and that he's probably a little hurt I haven't made time to see him lately, but whatever. Honestly, I don't think about him too much. What did bother me was all the travelling. I really wish, for once, I could sit down and rest. I was really looking forward to doing that yesterday. Instead, I had to spend two days getting up and going everywhere. I wish I could just relax. But nope, gotta keep on working so I can travel.

That's what I'm really missing - some kind of social support, people I trust who see me, who are there for me. Everybody I trust is away, it's hard. I need to spend three days with a friend, I need to spend a few weeks with buddies and family, I need to know I'm not alone. The digital age is nice, but it doesn't compensate for a good hug and a smile from your uncle.

Now, I know I made a promise, but I just have to let it out: Goddamn. This BLOWS. I feel so awful. Just a sinking feeling, an meek feeling, sadness and helplessness. I like the meditation idea, but I don't really know how to go about it. Why won't this go away? It's been months, nine since the start, three since Shayne, and yet it won't end, and the thought of not having Shayne still makes me feel awful. The only improvement has been my getting better at not thinking about her, and how I'm now earning money. Great. I still feel like shit. I hope my doctor can help. Oh, right, I'm not seeing him for weeks, and he doesn't like me.

Night. Here's to feeling rested tomorrow (I can't hope for feeling better).

Merry Christmas

Hey, just wanted to say either this blog doesn't have any readers or y'all are jackasses. Probably the former, but still.

I'm tired, I was woken up this morning because I had to go to NYC to have Christmas dinner with Dad. He's such a fucking annoyance. I love him to death, but he's very needy. He always wants me over, always wants to see me. I do too, but it's such a hassle. I resent the fact that I need to travel to see my own father. That I have to go down to NYC all the time, or else I'm a bad son. That instead of being able to enjoy a nice Christmas with my family, sit and relax on my one day off in weeks, I have to get up early to ensure (yet again) that I am on time, that I make my train, that I sleep in a different bed, that I'm away from home on Christmas. Not cool.

Ugh. I gave him a bottle of sake. I was holding it in my hands an hour ago. I wanted to break it and slash my wrists. Or drink it all. Or smash it over my head and knock myself out. I was having a good Christmas two or three hours ago. I don't know what happened. I watched the Simpsons Movie with Dad. I doubt that did it. He played some music that reminded me of Shayne. I don't know. All I know is that I loved her, she's gone, I'm trying to move on, create meaning where there is none, and only finding that I'm helpless.

I don't know exactly why this depression has taken hold of me, but I have no control over it, and it makes me want to do awful things. I'm not myself, and I don't know if I can ever get back to being the old me. I don't want to live like this, but I don't know what to do. The psychologist's was good for a bit, but now it's just the same old. I'm working, I'm depressed, I don't know what to do. He doesn't have any answers. We've talked about all the relevant issues. He thinks mourning Shayne is just a phase, something that will pass. As for the rest, well, I'm employed, and feeling good about my employment, so that's not it. I'm just insecure. I DON'T KNOW!!! I don't have the slightest clue why I'm sad, and this guy can't do a damn thing. The pills aren't working. I'm approaching the end of my rope, so to speak. I know I've said this before, but if this trip doesn't do something for me, I don't know what I'll do.


FUCK!!!!


Merry Christmas everybody. Seriously, let me know you're reading this if you are.

Paranoia

A quick one. But related to the post below, more and more I find people seem to be holding things back from me. A coworker will just not talk to me, and I wonder what she's thinking. She's clearly biting her tongue about something, but she just says she's tired and wants to go home. My dad seems somewhere else during dinner, and I wonder just where that somewhere else could be, and why he just says he's tired.

Not everyone is so damn tired. Sometimes I just want to grab people, throw them up against the wall, and yell, "What the FUCK are you hiding? Why do you hate me?"

Obviously that's not socially acceptable. But I wonder whether this is a legitimate vibe I'm getting, or paranoia related to... the depression? the pills? just general mental illness?

What I do know is that this is an illness. I am NOT well. My thought processes are very askew, and my emotions rage, straining at whatever tether I can fashion from the ragged remains of my reasoning process. And so I can't trust my own thoughts. Maybe people aren't hiding things from me. But I know how much I hide. And the fact that I don't know drives me crazy.

What does he/she really think of me? Of how I treat them? Of my illness? Are they sick of me? Am I losing touch with them? Do they hate me?

Is it because I see so much to hate in myself that I think everybody hates me?

That's not healthy, is it?

I don't know anymore. I'm damn tired of always trying to figure it out though. Imagine these blog posts, but they're going through my head 24/7. For the past nine months. It's enough to drive anyone insane. And I think, slowly but surely, I'm losing my grip on reality. I don't know what to do.

So drink to my health! To my birthday! To Christmas! To the New Year! To my trip! To Macalester!

Because if none of those things make me happy, I don't know what I will do. Probably harm myself in some way. And so far the first three don't look good.

Remember? That whole depression thing?

So I seem to have a schedule now, and it involves staying up until two am every morning. Not healthy. I'm exhausted all the time now.

I miss having my friends around every day. I was talking with Jen tonight, and even Jen made me miss being at a school.

I miss having a girlfriend, or even someone to feel attractive around. I'm so goddamn fat, and I don't have the will to do anything about it. I've been thinking about Shayne alot lately, and about those girls I was flirting with at work. I wish I had put my number on their receipt or something. They wouldn't have called, but at least I would have tried. I wish more cute girls who seemed to enjoy being around me came by. I wish when the did I would stop trying to sell them stuff - selling is a mode, something you can't get out of.

I feel like I'm liked less and less at work. I don't know why. I'm late all the time, sometimes very late, and I work really hard. Lately I've been starting to get on people's cases about not working hard enough. Apparently some think I'm conceited too. Self-centered, maybe. I don't think I'm conceited though.

I miss being liked. I miss being loved. I feel so alone. I feel so damn sad. So... worthless.

It doesn't matter what I get for Christmas, none of the things I want are going to be under the tree.

God help me if this trip and/or Macalester doesn't fix any of this. If I find myself three months into Macalester feeling lonely, unliked, and unloved, I don't know what I'll do. I honestly don't know.

So this is the new year...

I'm pretty close to leaving for Europe. In nine months I'm going to meet all these excited new Mac kids that keep on writing on my wall. I've got a nice job situation, and while my social life may be dormant, with medication I'm ok with that. Hell, I was even flirting with some customers today.

A thought occurred to me on the way home tonight. It could just be the pills, but still.

Eighteen was a pretty sucky year. But nineteen will be better.

Happy Birthday.

I'm going to keep this short, because I start my new lucrative computer job tomorrow, and this blog has been taking up many precious sleep hours. But between the lack of presents, or friends, or a party, or even some kind of dinner (mom and I were going to go tonight, but I got out of work too late), tomorrow is going to be a depressing day. I'm working non-stop. Your words of kindness are great, don't get me wrong. But they're going to be all I've got for my birthday.

I'm turning 19. Shit. I'm no longer in that prime demographic, the quote-unquote "prime" of my life. 18 is supposed to be this magical year, the point where everything is at it's peak. 18 started off well. I had just lost my virginity, had a great girlfriend, doing well in school, waiting to get into UChicago. It ended... well, let's say it's been a slow decline. 17 was my peak.


I really, really hope that statement isn't true.

The anti-depressants are the only things stopping me from just accepting that it is.


Not to mention in a year I'll be 20. It's a really scary thought. I'm very invested in my teenagehood, and while I know I'll still be in college, the idea that I'm so close to being on my own is just bizarre. I'm totally fine with supporting myself, I tried it out to a certain extent in New Hampshire just fine. But 20 is... old. I still feel 14.

That's not healthy, I think. It might also explain alot.

If it does explain alot, that's really pathetic. And depressing.

So you do exist!

As of half an hour ago, I have two readers. Hi! I guess people did see that link I put on facebook. I haven't told anyone else. Feel free to comment, by the way. Text messages and facebook messages are kind of antithetical to the whole idea of a blog. That's why the comment section is there.

That said, turns out Shayne is reading this thing. I'm saving a post on her for another day (and it will be a doozy, but in the meantime I don't know exactly how I feel about that. Well, that's not true. I'm ok with it -- hell, I'm a little flattered -- just so long as this doesn't promote dialogue. This blog serves just a few purposes.

Primarily, it is my diary. My personal diary. I am writing here in order to explore a few facets of my life without burdening you all, because whether or not you're too polite to say it, you know I am.

Secondarily, because I know I'm shitty at staying in touch with people, it is a way for people who care about me to see what I am up to. Obviously, that's mostly going to be how I'm handling my craziness, but if people want to know, "Hey, how's Joe doing? I know he wasn't feeling too good," they'll be able to find out whatever's been bothering me lately.

Lastly, if any of those people want to give me words of encouragement, or advice, even if it's a simple, "That sucks, man. Don't worry, things will turn around," they'd write it in the comments. I'd really appreciate it, actually. Right now I have to fight so hard for happiness, any little unexpected thing just brightens my mood, even if only for five minutes.

So back to Shayne (as always). I kinda like that she's reading the blog: it's a way for her/us to keep in touch while still allowing me to move on. But I hope she doesn't comment. I don't know how I'd react. Honestly, I'm trying so hard to get my mind in a place where she isn't so important to me, and the best way to do that is to pretend she doesn't exist. It's hard when I keep getting reminders that she does exist.

So apparently she's still checking my Facebook. I only do that when I'm pining for someone. Again, I'm going to go into us in more detail in the future, but I have rarely, if ever, considered this breakup from her point of view. Mostly because I get such mixed signals, I'm afraid I can't figure it out. My best guess, though, is that she feels like she has to do this, because she sees the person she fell in love with in me, but knows that I'm not that person anymore. I'm sadder, I'm depressed. And that it's hurt her as much (well, nearly) as it's hurt me, and that she wishes she could have the old me back. So she's still facebook stalking me, even though she refuses to give me another shot.

See, this is why I don't think about this so much. It's just such a miserable situation, where nobody's happy. I'm not happy. I just want the whole damn thing to go away. It's christmas, I would be thinking up some cool present. Hell, I even have one picked out (Paris, Je T'aime). But I've gotten better at not getting caught up in could-have-beens. Keeping myself busy with two jobs is wearing me down, but at least it's doing a good job of distracting me.

So to all my readers out there, I'm going to pretend like you don't exist, but write every now again. Unless you're Shayne. In which case, don't write. Truth be told Shayne, it's hard to pretend like you're not going to read this. I wouldn't have included the present otherwise. Don't worry, I know I can't give it to you, but it's the thought that counts, right? I don't know. At any rate, I promise to never write specifically to you, or anyone else in a post again, but it's too hard not to.

Depression

I wanted to take a second after that last post to talk about what it's like to be me lately. Because you have to understand, when you ask me "How are you? Are you ok?" and I say "Yeah, I'm just thinking about such and such..." or "Yeah, I'm just wishing Shayne were here," that's not exactly true.

So for those of you who haven't had the pleasure of going through a major depressive episode yet, let me fill you in on what its like to be me right now.

Truth is, I have no fucking clue why I'm sad. I can tell you what event probably triggered my latest bout of sadness, but that's not why I'm sad. At least, it's not like I'm legarthic and anti-social because I'm constantly thinking about Shayne. Maybe in the first few weeks after we broke up... but not anymore.

More often than not, I'm not thinking about anything.

The past three months, and less frequently for six months before that, I have lost all control over my emotions. It's a scary thing. I may be in a great school, with a girlfriend, surrounded by supporting friends who love me and looking forward to a gap year with much travelling, but I'll still feel hopeless and alone. That's why my first therapist was such a dud. He was all about cognitive therapy - change how you think, and you'll change how you feel.

It doesn't matter what I think. My emotions are raw, all consuming. If I'm sad, nothing will get me out of it. Oh sure, I'll start trying to figure out a reason, and I'll think about how happy I was with Shayne, or how happy I'd be if only this were different, or if I had gone to Macalester instead of taking a gap year, or if my friends were home... but I don't have to think about anything.

When I got near-suicidal a few weeks ago, what struck me was how far this had progressed. For a long time now, eight or nine months, I have fantasized about killing myself. I'd have this big funeral, everybody would come and feel sorry for me, I'd have proof of who cared about me and who didn't. Shayne would regret breaking up with me, others would regret not giving me a chance. Most importantly, the pain would be gone. Oftentimes my depression would express itself physically through a headache, and I'd imagine shooting a hole in my head to relieve the pressure. I'd be free. But I always stopped there. Because then I'm the guy in the casket. And being an athiest, I'm incredibly afraid of death. So I felt safe, knowing I'd always reach that conclusion in my thoughts, and so would never try to hurt myself.

Except a few weeks ago, I became so sad. I had no control over it; I could not will my way out of it, and didn't have the motivation or the strength to even want myself to be happy. And what I found was a feeling of extreme indifference moving over me. I still didn't want to die. But as I banged my head as hard as I could into the tile wall in the bathroom of Chili's, I didn't care. I never got that far. The only thought going through my head was surprise at how my skull bounced against the wall. I didn't feel the pain, I didn't feel ashamed. I only felt like I was finally acting on all this sadness. Emotion had taken over, and my rational self had lost all control.

That's why it's important to remember that this is a chemical imbalance. (I guess.) Because all-encompassing hopelessness is a powerful thing. I laid around for months (months!) after Shayne left me, feeling like I would never get work, never meet another girl, never get my life together. I probably could have gotten a job in three weeks, but why bother? What's the point? I knew I needed to look, but I felt so dead inside. And so it took me three months before I realized there were tons of jobs out there.

That's the main thing. I can put on a good show, make you think that, at least temporarily, everything's ok. But I'm just going through the motions. When people say, "It's just a woman, get over it," they need to realize how powerless I am here. I feel dead inside, nearly all the time, and nothing I can think or do, nothing you can do or say, can make me feel better. Nothing.

Now, this may be my emotion coloring things, but life has become one disappointment after another. Even my birthday is going to be another day at the store. My mom says she's got a good present for me. More than anything else, I need to be shown that there are good surprises left in store. Because it seems like it has just rained shit for months, with little end in sight. And so I've gone numb, bitter at all women, bitter at the world. And I know that's silly, I know I've got a great future ahead of me, that in three or four months I'm going to be out traveling the world. But the disconnect between what I know and what I believe in my heart is miles, and I'm dead tired of trying to get through each day. I just want it to end. I just for once need something that makes me feel good to happen. I want to feel normal! Ugh...

I'm exhausted

I had to go home early from a friend's party tonight. I had worked with Brendan on the Ned Lamont campaign, the highlight of my life. I didn't know a soul there outside of Brendan and a frequent Lamont volunteer. I couldn't drink, thanks to my antidepressants and my car, so all there was to enjoy was ham. It was good ham, but still. After a nine hour day, I could barely stand up straight, much less deal with a party. I spent only forty-five minutes there, most of the time in the bathroom. I couldn't deal... I mean, why bother? These people don't know me. They have no clue about my life. What am I supposed to talk to them about? How can I possibly relate to these people? Instead I seem boring and dull. I'm supposed to be having a good time, someone I respect and care about invited me with good will, and instead I'm sitting here wondering why I'm here and what I'm supposed to do.

So I went home.

The weird thing was, Shayne ruined it and she wasn't even there. I wasn't going to go. I was going to go home and lie down, like I had wanted to do since about four o'clock. But then Shayne texted me around seven. She wanted to let me know that she wasn't going to Brendan's party, so if I wanted to go, it would be ok. I decided, sure, I need to get out, see friendly faces. But even that innocuous text was enough to get me going. The entire rest of the night, my mood plunged. I felt awful. Not over anything in particular, mind you. If I had to pin it on something, I'd say the fact that I was feeling ok when I texted her back, and the normalcy of that brief conversation with her, reminded me of better times. And of course, combined with how I had thought of her all day, each time a girl walked by with a Victoria Secret's bag (the only girl I've ever seen sexy underwear on), or every time I saw a beautiful girl, or brushed against some sweet girl's hand when giving them a sample cup... each slightest bit of affection reminded me of her.

So I wish she'd stop talking to me. Maybe I would have kept a decent mood, gone home, and simply gone to bed. I'd certainly feel much better right now.