Missing Someone

Tonight, I stopped by a local street fair, a small version of a classic town fair. I was invited by none other than Jen. She was working for her father selling his products, and she was bored. I arrived at about 5:15. For about an hour, we just stood at the booth talking. A few times, we were interrupted by potential customers, but she sold nothing for the whole time. Her mother arrived around 6:30 or so. We left her there to get something to eat. Together, Jen and I enjoyed a steak sandwich, delightfully greasy fair fries, and a humongous funnel cake. I am still stuffed now. Afterwards, we wandered through the street. We watched some square dancing and searched for her cousins who were there. At about 8:45, we made our way back to the booth. When we arrived, Jen got out a chair for me to sit in, and I sat there until about 9:10. While I had been sitting, Jen's father arrived. He seemed only mildly cordial. He wasn't hostile by any means, but there was a distinct sense of being ignored. I figure the sentiment was, "Why the hell is he here?" At that point, I left the fair to come to a friend's house for a bit. I am sitting here writing this.

To be perfectly honest, I am still madly in love with Jen. I wasn't sure about how I felt before, but it felt so good to be near her. I don't know how much she was able to sense, but I expect it was quite a bit. Things are better because of the medication, and it makes the emotions just that much stronger. I wanted to be a friend, and I always will be. However, I will probably always love her. I know she is with another guy, so I don't know if or when I will talk to her about it or even if she can reciprocate those feelings. But tonight, we had such a chemistry. I am still excited from my night out with Jen, and I am disappointed that it had to end. Am I crazy to think that we could be together again? Is it a possibility with her living at home? So many questions... All I know for sure is that I want to spend a great deal more time with her.

Second Opinion

Today, I say a local psychiatrist. He evaluated the fact that I have two forms of depression, adult ADD, and societal anxiety. I have a hill to climb ahead.

The hill I must climb isn't steep, but it is long, and I need to avoid losing my grip on the true perspective. A large part of that is Dad. I haven't talked about him yet, but I need to vent my feelings so that they don't build up. After my appointment and Dad's arrival home, I told Dad how the appointment went and what the medication involved. Immediately, Dad's mind leapt into overdrive and landed upon the suggestion of using one of those little pill boxes with the compartments for each day. Now, I don't want to sound rude, but those are for old people... Let me explain. I have one pill to take a day for probably the next 18 months, and one pill to take for the next two weeks. I know I'm not the best at remembering things, but those tend to be used by people who need to take upwards of four of five pills a day, with perhaps different dosages on different days.

I guess, more than the fact that I have this stupid little pill container is how Dad handled the situation. He didn't ask if that would work for me or if I minded; he just bought it at the drugstore when we picked up the prescription. On top of that, while I was putting away some groceries, he went ahead and put the pills in the container and put the rest of the pills in the cupboard. Now it sounds like a petty little thing to worry about, but we havae had the discussion a number of times about my need to be more independent. Obviously, this does nothing for my independence and learning to handle responsibility. I know I am likely to forget and this is important, but the least he could have done is get my input and let me take care of it, even if he wants to watch me. I was always irritated in school when other students would finish a problem or puzzle of some sort before me (which, to be honest, wasn't all that often), and the child would shout out the answer or start talking about the solution. I want to be independent; I need to be independent. And while I don't want Dad to totally withdraw and leave me alone during this new period of the unknown, I do want him to be more distant from actually taking over my treatment and life.

And it's so hard to say anything to him because he always seems to haev a response that I can't come back to. Tonight, for example, I was going to take my prescription upstairs to my bedroom, and Dad said, "It might be wise to leave those down here." In other words, "They'd get lost or you will forget to take the medication." For a split second, I showed the slightest hint of anger. In a fraction of a second, I realized that I shouldn't be, that Dad was looking out for my best interests. At that point, I was willing to drop it. Dad wasn't. He noticed, as he usually does when I slip, and began to question me about it. After I answered, the dicussion became a lecture. Dad started rambling about the fact that this is so important (which is true) and that he wants to help me (which is also true), but I have heard the same stuff over and over again. It is a dictatorial tone, one without the possibility of choice and freedom. It's Dad's way or the highway. I may be a little skewed in my perspective, but that is how I perceive the way things are right now.

For those of you who stuck around this long, I will be taking Welbutrin to deal with my depression and ADD. Welbutrin is designed to increase a couple of chemicals in the brain that are deficient and cause a lack of motivation or anxiety or hopelessnessm when found in small amounts.

Conflicted Emotions

Today has been a rather odd day. In order to set up the scenario, I will need to briefly explain events up to the current point.

In the summer of 2002, I dated Jen, an old schoolmate and current co-worker, for about 4 months. The relationship ended out of mainly fear on her part, since neither of us had ever been involved in a serious relationship. The following summer, we began talking again and renewed our relationship. This time, it lasted 10 months. The relationship was going so well that I actually lost my virginity to her in late January 2004. She saw me through the worst time of my life, and I was doing well. Over time, things began to change; she became more disrespectful and distant. At the end of the relationship, we mutually decided that we should be friends and move on with our lives.

This brings us to the present. Over the last few weeks, Jen has been calling me somewhat persistently to talk about life, including her new boyfriend. I really don't have a problem talking about the boyfriend, but it would be nice to know a name. She continues to refuse to tell me his name, even though we have talked about the fact that he has brought her roses and all of those small romantic things that new couples (and old ones) do for each other.

It is rather unusual for me to feel certain emotions, since I generally consider myself a fairly logical and passive person. Today, I am feeling a mild bit of jealousy and a large amount of curiosity over this boyfriend which might not even exist. It's sad that I feel that way, the lack of trust that Jen would be telling the truth, but she has been known to be extremely evasive in the past.

In talking to my therapist, (yes, I am seeing a shrink...) I began to realize that I want a social life in the worst way, just not with Jen. I am more jealous that so many people around me are happy and enjoying time with each other while I keep putting up road blocks to my enjoyment, such as putting myself down or zoning out surfing the internet or reading a book for the 43rd time.

A great deal of this feeling of jealousy is reinforced by my current situation. So many people around me, including Jen having a boyfriend. My best friend Dan just proposed to his girlfriend of a year, my brother (who is 3 years younger than I) proposed to his high-school sweetheart a couple of weeks ago, and then there are my parents, married for 30 years.

Of course, here I go, comparing myself to others when I know that isn't a good idea. But that's been a common pattern of mine, to wallow in my sorrow and not have the perserverance to rise out of my gloomy mood and love life and myself.

First Post

I don't want to make a huge deal out of this first post, but I wanted to just say that I want to have a place to anonymously vent my thoughts aand feelings. I would appreciate anyone who reads or listens to any of this to feel free to comment on whether or not I am full of shit or not.

Anyway, I hope to be more avid at blogging here than on my real blog, wherever that is... ;-) (You don't honestly think I would give away my identity that easily, did you?)