Prozac and Emotional Honesty are the foundation to healing my relationship.

Now, I am not dependent on medication. I do, however, recognize when it is necessary. 

Already the things that I couldn’t get out of my head no matter what I just approach with “Fuck it.”

I’ve expressed my thoughts and feelings, and even though I had expected more of a challenge or resistance, actually it turns out that things are much better. 

I think he even opened up to me a bit more. 

I’m happy. Yeah, I’m still a bit blah, mainly because Wednesday was so draining and I haven’t eaten very much the past few days, but where my relationship is concerned, I feel so much better about things. 

I think, today, I shall put on make-up, take a new picture to show my new hair, then head off and get myself a wrap from Azar’s because I am so overdo for one.

Being a Werewolf.

In the stories of werewolves, you’ll always find that person who is so full of despair and angst over being one, and you wonder why. Being a werewolf seems like it would be insanely fun (at least to me). 

Recently, my depression took a turn for the worse, because, you know, that’s what depression, mixed with anxiety, does. Seizes you at your weakest moments and attempts to destroy you.

In an attempt to stem the flow of horrible thoughts and wracking sobs, I took two Zoloft and when it started to take effect, it made a bit loopy. In my off-my-rocker thoughts, much like those epiphanies people get when they’re high, I realized how those angst-filled werewolves were very similar to me and my depression/anxiety. 

I’d rather be a werewolf though.

I see my disorders and illnesses as this dark beast hiding in my psyche. It’s sleek, seductive, and whispers, but it only wants your destruction and your complete and utter abandon. It wants the opportunity to destroy you, for what reason, no one knows.

Thankfully, years of being introspective helped me determine that those thoughts were not my own thoughts, but my illness talking. I don’t want to drown myself in my bathtub or cut myself, that’s the depression suggesting those things.

I took the initiative and called my doctor, deciding that I needed the Prozac for a while longer (Zoloft is more expensive and not as effective). 

I hope one day I no longer need anti-depressants, but I think it helps keep me sane and happy, and able to contain my wolf better.

What is wrong with me?

Some girl comments on a Facebook status my boyfriend made that she loves him.

I want to curbstomp her.

I have problems.

Venting Episode: A Note to Someone.

*Disclaimer: I may use terms that are derogatory female terms… mostly in the heat of the moment, and to vent. I hate it, but sometimes it just feels appropriate. Anyway, I just need to vent this. It’s petty and stupid but if I don’t do it, it may fester in my head. Also, it may get violent but BUT I WOULD NOT ACTUALLY DO ANYTHING. THIS IS NOT A THREAT, JUST VENTING.*

Dear Person,

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Just a rant.

If there’s one thing I’m sick of, other than feeling sorry for myself with no reason and having friends abandon me, it’s when so-called friends tell me what to do.

And, to my chagrin, I let them tell me what to do.

Stop telling me what to do! Stop telling me what color to dye my hair! Stop telling me what I did wrong, what I should do instead, what to do, what not to do!

Even if something hurts me, I don’t tell you not to do it. I might say it hurts me, because I would at least like you to understand that certain things do hurt me, but if you want to continue the path of hurting my feelings or doing what I think is the wrong choice, well that’s your choice.

If it’s too much stress for me, well then I guess we’re no longer friends.

If it’s not that big of a deal, then whatever.

I am not a toy, I am not a doll, I am not something to order around and beat down into submission.

I am, unfortunately, very submissive, and hate to confront or rock the boat, but I feel like I’m going to explode from all this pressure.

Do this. Do that.

No, no, everyone does this, I, in my infinite wisdom, think you should do THIS.

FUCK YOU.

Okay, I’m done now.

I feel this is somewhat roundabout, but I keep coming back to the same conclusions. 

I saw a picture with the text saying people who commit suicide are not trying to end their lives, but they’re trying to end their pain. 

Every now and then (frequently now since I haven’t found a way to reconcile the contentment I felt being single with being in a relationship with someone) I feel pain. Various thoughts that on the surface I know are complete bullshit, just the endless venomous feed from a diseased brain, but still continuously make me forget how good I have it.

I do not want to be depressed or feel emotional pain. Sometimes I think I just can’t feel much else. 

I just feel like something is broken inside of my head and heart, and I am running myself ragged trying to fix it. I have no idea what I’m trying to fix though, since I don’t have a manual for my own head or heart. 

I feel like it’s unfair of me to feel pain since I know of many other people who have suffered far worse than me, but then I just feel worse, and guilty. Then that just brings me down again and again. It’s a vicious cycle really.

I don’t blame my relationship at all for my feelings of pain, depression, or discontent. I believe it is simply that I found peace and balance when it was just me and I had no person who I had to open my heart for, or that would have power over my feelings. 

Being in a relationship is much more difficult than being single. Yes, you are lonely when you’re single. I can accept that. The problem is when you’re are emotionally invested with another person, suddenly other people they know that you don’t could potentially be dangerous for your happiness. Even if they are nothing to worry about, the fact you now have something that matters, you realize it could easily be destroyed.

I think a person with severe anxiety and depression problems views relationships in a different way. Especially females who suffer from these. 

Relationships become just another way for people to disappoint you, or for you to disappoint others and yourself. You are suddenly opening your heart, and you realize just how terrifying that is. 

Every potential negative outcome must be faced head on, or you’ll just worry yourself into a frenzy about it later. 

You know, on various levels, that sometimes there are red flags you need to keep an eye on, and that there are things that are just the product of the paranoid mind. It’s difficult to differentiate these things most of the time.

I have stuck by horrible people who have beaten me to an emotional pulp. I am finally with someone that actually cares about me, and I seem to be the one beating myself into an emotional pulp…

What the hell is wrong with me?

I don’t want to do that. 

It sucks. It’s causing unnecessary pain. 

I’m not sure if I’m breaking apart for the sake of healing, or if I’m just doing it because no one else is…

Seriously?

I don’t mind a friend hanging out or even dating an ex of mine. Hell, you can’t control who you love (although this is about “fun” not “love”).

But abandoning your friends for some guy is never cool.

I’ve had people tell me not to abandon friends for my boyfriend. I have no intention of abandoning people. The only people who I really want to hang out with are always busy or live in another state. 

I don’t think I can take this anymore.

If friends feel like I’m abandoning them for my boyfriend, I’m not. I haven’t been feeling very social the past week, and this week I probably will still feel bleh.

I plan on going out Tuesday night because Bryant has to work through the night and it gives me something to do.

Anyway, I get sick enough whenever I see my ex at the Wave (especially when I catch him looking at me) but this whole friend hanging out with him and choosing him over her friends that actually give a shit about her, well that’s just hurtful.

I’m sick of it.

Arg

I like how I am supposed to be your friend, but you totally disregard my existence.

For what?

So you can hang out with my ex who hurt me so badly multiple times?

Well, fuck.