I remember all the faults that the relationship between Jack and I had. I remember them clearly and they are a good portion of my blog posts from Fall/Winter 2015. And I don't miss the dynamic of being made to feel like I was an obstacle because I existed.
But I miss our friendship. We had fun together when things were good.
These guys lately....they don't make me laugh. One is smart, very very smart but less funny. One is smart and funny, but moving away, and his politics are problematic. One is smart and funny but lives across the country, he wanted to come visit but I'm just not that into him. And the rest are dumb diversions.
I'm always surprised with how much shit I can get away with. I'm not a ton of fun. Frankly, I'm suicidal. I spent last Thursday on the phone with a crisis line. But they still ask me out for dates. Not even hook ups, but actual "Can I take you to dinner?" dates.
It's absurd.
Thursday, June 30, 2016
Wednesday, June 22, 2016
So
I had a list of things I wanted to write about. I've been up to shenanigans. John has thrown like 8 curveballs this month.
But all I can think about is how much I don't want to exist anymore.
I have my THIRD sleep study later this week. Weeks ago I had to come off Prozac for this sleep study.
And I wish I was dead.
I'm not a good mom. I'm not a good employee. I can't maintain relationships, friendly or romantic. I feel helpless and hopeless. I don't want this life anymore.
The next person to tell me that things will get better, they'll get better when I can take Prozac again this weekend.
But no. That's not the case at all.
I've reached out.
I've taken the meds.
I've seen therapists.
I struggle and try. And I have. Every Goddamn Day. since I was 16.
I'm so tired.
I get up and show up. I graduated from college. I got two degrees. I've held a job with the same firm for 7 years. I've raised a child.
Don't you dare tell me that I need to hold on.
I have been exhausted and miserable for YEARS.
Motherfucking YEARS.
I don't want to do this anymore.
Yes, sure. My brain is a dick and telling me these things.
But guess what?
It always has and it always will.
My brain chemistry is wrong.
I'm put together wrong.
I'm not supposed to be.
But all I can think about is how much I don't want to exist anymore.
I have my THIRD sleep study later this week. Weeks ago I had to come off Prozac for this sleep study.
And I wish I was dead.
I'm not a good mom. I'm not a good employee. I can't maintain relationships, friendly or romantic. I feel helpless and hopeless. I don't want this life anymore.
The next person to tell me that things will get better, they'll get better when I can take Prozac again this weekend.
But no. That's not the case at all.
I've reached out.
I've taken the meds.
I've seen therapists.
I struggle and try. And I have. Every Goddamn Day. since I was 16.
I'm so tired.
I get up and show up. I graduated from college. I got two degrees. I've held a job with the same firm for 7 years. I've raised a child.
Don't you dare tell me that I need to hold on.
I have been exhausted and miserable for YEARS.
Motherfucking YEARS.
I don't want to do this anymore.
Yes, sure. My brain is a dick and telling me these things.
But guess what?
It always has and it always will.
My brain chemistry is wrong.
I'm put together wrong.
I'm not supposed to be.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
