// perception is not always reality.//

Ready for some real honesty? Let’s go.

Strong. Optimistic. Energetic. Happy.

All words I have heard used to describe me. How flattering.

However, I highly wonder if any of that is true. Well, it’s certainly not all the time.

Any of you who have spent any more than hm, 10 minutes around me likely know what event marked the beginning of my new year. No fun. My history of self-loathing, excessive self-deprecation, self-pity over unrequited affection, and perception of myself as a future spinster did not lend itself to a healthy reaction to this.

I did not want to get out of bed. I wanted to shut all the light out of whatever room I was in, sleep away whatever pain I felt.

I blamed myself for everything that I had sensed went wrong, and wanted to undo it. After all, what was the common denominator in any heartbreak or hurt I experienced? Me. So I must have done something.

In months leading up to the event, I had already felt increased anxiety and stress. I likely had some intuition as to what may have been coming, but was in utter denial. I did not want to see what I perceived as my only hope slip through my fingers. So, in order to control the wild swings of emotion, I went to see the doctor, and based on what I had described, I was prescribed Lexapro. Now what’s that, you ask? From the website:

Lexapro is a prescription medicine for the treatment of major depressive disorder (MDD) in adults and adolescents aged 12-17 years and generalized anxiety disorder (GAD) in adults. MDD and GAD are real medical conditions that require diagnosis and treatment from a healthcare professional. Lexapro is a safe and effective medication that may help improve symptoms of depression in adults and adolescents aged 12-17 and generalized anxiety disorder in adults. Your healthcare professional chose Lexapro for a reason.

The reason being that I didn’t appear to be able to behave rationally or function as normal on a regular basis. So I thought.

And this “pre-existing” condition was then amplified with an event that rocked my world and shattered a heart that I was trying hold together with some haphazardly placed figurative “tape”, if you will—reassurances that I was imagining problems, and that if I just held up through this, all would improve.

So much for that. In the throes of a return to adolescent fears of rejection and the pain I never wanted to feel in this intensity, I got my refills for Lexapro, albeit inconsistently. I needed help, I knew… faith and prayer being my first defense, but I felt a supplement was called for. I have to get up out of bed. I have to face my fears head on. There are people who need to see me pull through.

But I had no desire to lean on any kind of crutch indefinitely. One day, maybe 3 months ago, I knew I’d use the last of the supply I had and I said to myself… that’s it, I’m not taking anymore. And I didn’t. And I haven’t since.

This made me want to listen to Lily Allen’s “Everyone’s At It” (also, my prayers are with her, as she suffered another miscarriage… :[). The lyrics, as follows, make it simple to see why:

I get involved but I’m not advocating
Got an opinion, yeah you’re well up for slating
So you’ve got a prescription and that makes it legal
I find the excuses overwhelmingly feeble
You go to the doctor, you need pills for sleeping
If you can convince him then I guess that’s not cheating
Your daughters depressed we’ll get her straight on the Prozac
But little do you know, she already takes crack

Why can’t we all, all just be honest?
Admit to ourselves that everyone’s on it
From grown politicians to young adolescents
Prescribing themselves anti depressants
How can we start to tackle the problem
If you don’t put your hands up, and admit that you’re on them
Kids are in danger of all them habits

Cause from what I can see, everyone’s at it

That’s spot on.

So… strength is not the absence of weakness.  Clearly. It is more the acknowledgment of the weakness. And the conscious decision to move forward regardless.

Cheers.

// So overwhelmed.//

I cannot fathom why all the people who have walked through my life have. I am not exaggerating when I say I have some sort of love in my heart for every single one of them. Even those people who I have offended, those who have hurt me, those who may have been there for only a brief moment in time. Every single one has affected me. As a result, there have been many smiles, laughter, tears of joy, tidal waves of emotion surging through an already fragile heart. In essentially every individual I encounter, I see the glimmer of hope and love (for the most part). It is such plain proof to me that there are no coincidences ever.

I have been told such wonderful things and given such immense compliments that I don’t feel worthy of, because my only intent is to inject joy and hope in a sometimes desperate world that seeks to tell you that you aren’t worth very much. That your existence is insignificant. That all you have is the limited microcosm in which you inhabit, and when it’s over, it was essentially pointless. And I can’t believe that for a second. My entire being and nerves within and without are alit with a passion to make this world better than I left it. Not to walk through aimlessly, but with a distinct purpose. To create something beautiful. To care for all I cross paths with who need a kind word and someone to lean on. To discover something greater than what my physical limitations will permit.

Some moments are so discouraging, and I almost feel like falling apart. But the broken can be repaired, including myself. Amen.

// I seemed to have a thing for extended metaphors.//

Another journal entry from my past of interest. No preface needed, just typing it. From January 29th, 2004. Gee, I fancied myself so clever.

Well, this is quite the delayed appendage. I’ve determined my love life (or lack thereof) is like a Monopoly board. I try to make my way around the board, checking out the available properties. Of course, the most attractive are already taken—we know I’m not worthy of Boardwalk. I have a couple bad rolls of the dice. Eventually I got comfortable on Free Parking. Aahhh… a safe spot. Peacefully remaining single and living in the complacency of bitter anti-romantic feelings. But it’s more like I’m stuck in Jail. Do not pass Go. Do not collect $200. I want my money. I need a Get out of Jail Free pass! In a game of chance and business couth, I lack all experience. Maybe I’m really in Monopoly Junior. Ugh. I just can’t win. At least I’m the iron. Hot, hot. Sizzle, sizzle!

And yes, I do in fact willing choose the iron as my piece when I play Monopoly. Definitely part of my mom’s influence there.

I almost have to laugh as I read these entries. I was really trying to be the next Helen Fielding. Lord, help us all. :P

// Maturity…//

So I wrote this on July 13, 2003 (one of the few entries I dated). Not entirely sure who the subject of it was… but I probably could guess. It’s interesting…

What’s maturity? By your definition through habitual behavior, I can only guess you consider it being too serious for your own good. You only say things that appear overtly intelligent as to go over everyone else’s heads. Then you have the license to look down on them. Well, that sounds like arrogance to me. You insult people for not doing things your way. Give sideways glances and roll your eyes for acting a little goofy. Heaven forbid someone has a little fun. Oh, and no one can forget the rule not to laugh at anything because any humor aside from your own (which is lacking by far) is far too base and childish for you. For your information, it is healthy to find entertainment in life’s monotonies. Not everything is garbage because you don’t approve. Besides, if all was judged to your standards, we’d live in a drab, dry, gray world. Perhaps I want a rainbow or two. Acting a little wild and singing and dancing my cares away is therapy. You could use a little yourself. And everyone has their sheepish moments now and then. We might get a little emotional or upset. It’s not a weakness. But if you must maintain that hard edged, impersonable facade, go right ahead.

I’m thankful I don’t really have that kind of anger or bitterness anymore…

// Cure//

Want some more poetry? Of course you do.

Am I perfectly justified in seeking vindication?
Is it healthy to despise you this way?
Could you take the time to answer these questions?

I don’t expect much, just a straightforward response
The curiosity is slowing softening me
I was supposed to hold on to thick skin
And ignore the fact that you were ignoring me

I need not depend on your approval
or your denial, for that matter
I can’t deny myself the right to an untainted heart
I am stronger than your indifference

If I should fall victim to fruitless vengeance
Then I am destined for the lack of love which I fear

So grit your teeth and clench your firsts
I order myself
It isn’t long until the pain subsides
In fact, it is healing if you should let it follow its course

You were my infection
You were my best medicine
You were the fatal virus
You were the cure

How funny I wrote this years ago. Could have been written months ago. But the simple fact is judgment is not mine and never is.

// An Algebraic Disaster//

So… I used to write some freeform poetry back in the day… (i.e., in high school).

It certainly was interesting. Because I love math, I wanted to write a poem with a bunch of math references… and I was quite pleased with the results. So I guess I wrote this 7 years ago or more, now I’m sharing it with you. Its title is the title of this post.

If I am rejected just a few more times,
won’t my odds improve?
Isn’t probability on my side?
If he doesn’t fit into the complexity of my equations,
is there not someone else to try?
Why can’t my x’s be compatible with his y’s?
So many variables cloud the possibility of a quick an easy answer.
The promise of a logical explanation is a horrible illusion and disappointment.
Not all abstracts can be translated into a simple mathematical formula.
Damn the immutability and inconsistency of human nature!
Strong emotion without source or reasonable explanation
Indifference from the object of my affection negates my attraction
All my hopes add up to nothing
There is no workable function I can utilize to calculate lasting love
And the solution I search for is, in fact, undefined

That one will always be one of my favorites.