Do I need to be committed?

Who I think I am, who I think people think I am, who I want to be and who I really am is all nonsense.

I think I am weak.

I think people think I am a push over and unworthy of attention. I think people think I am dumb and incapable.

The person I want to be, will never be. Because I have no real sense of values. I have no confidence. My goals are unattainable because my bearings are not straight.

And it is clear my recent events that I have no clue who I am. I did something so out of the character I thought I was that I am still in shock from my actions. The details are of no importance to readers, but let me just say I never thought I would do what I did. Until I was in the moment and mindlessly reacted.

All I can do is replay the event in my head with my mouth open wide in shock. I keep thinking, What the fuck? If I told anyone, they'd be shocked. But then I guess no one knows me that well, not even I, because apparently I am capable of things I never thought possible. Horrible things.

Depression is anger turned inward. That's what "experts" say. Since starting my prescription for mental and emotional stability a few months ago, I've immediately seen positive changes. Unfortunately the medicine's assistance has made me neglect my counseling, which I now realize is an essential tool in maintaining a positive mental state. For a month I've neglected my therapist and psychologist's phone calls checking in on my progress. "I'll call them tomorrow" has turned into I don't need them.

But after last night I realize I need them to sort out some things. My medication has been a cushion, but it won't make things comfortable for ever. I need extra padding. Therapy for a month has scratched the surface of a few issues I have, but last night I realize isolated incidents I brushed over in therapy might actually be slowly killing me and simultaneously ending important relationships with others.


This 'depression' I am dealing with, or however you want to call it, is strange. For me it started with extreme sadness, feelings of worthlessness and constant lethargy. There was lots of complaining and lots of frustration, with a few isolated incidents of anger. But now that the feelings of unnecessary sadness and the subsiding of worthless and lethargy have somewhat subsided with the assistance of medication. Yet frustration and anger still are sifting within me.

A lot of times I think it's wrong for me to get away with being angry and sad by saying I am someone who suffers from depression because everyone suffers from some sort of mental instability. Yet, when I take an inventory of my thoughts and behaviors I realize something is not right. Definitely not normal. Unstable at the least.

How did I get this way? How did things get so out of hand? How come people think counting to ten before reacting in a situation that angers you will actually work? How come it works for some people and not me? Where does this fury and fire within come from? Why is it so sporadic? When did it start? When did I become a crazy person?

What's going to happen to me?

How is it almost september?

It's only been a week since I returned to Berkeley, yet somehow it feels likes my trip home was months ago. Returning to work was less harmonious than I expected. It hasn't been unpleasant but it's been frustrating. I think my managers and I have very different views on the value that I am and could potentially be. It's unfortunate because I love my co-workers but I hate that this is my job. I don't hate the job, but I'm left with a daily "This is it?" taste in my mouth. I want more. Now.

My roommate situation was reconciled and I think I know that communication is essential, even if it causes unpleasant feelings to surface. Better to have a little tiff than a two week silent treatment tiff.

Jimmy and I have been together for a year (give or take a cumulative few months of break ups). In hindsight, I would change certain things, but our journey has taught me a lot and opened my heart in weird, uncomfortable, but satisfying ways. To think- this time last year we were eating falafel near UPenn after a crazy rainstorm and catching Little Miss Sunshine. Fast forward to this week- San Francisco fog, vintage Polaroid cameras, Indonesian food and buzz induced make outs. I love my boyfriend.

Square 1, third time, last chance, etc etc

I guess I'm excited to return to Berkeley tomorrow. My two weeks of time off started out a bit rocky but gradually turned into what it should have been all along: a relaxing vacation. I suppose all the activities that make up a vacation have distracted me from the realities I will be facing when I step off the plane tomorrow; I'm still broke, I've got more than one relationship to resurrect and I'm still unsure of whether I want to stay in California. These troubles are minor to outsiders and I'm sure I have the power to squash them as soon as I get home so they do not turn into the humongous drama I allow to keep me up at night.

In November I flew to Berkeley and with high hopes began a new life. What transpired was less than perfect, it was nightmarish. Personal battles permeated into one of the most important relationships of my life and because it was so powerful it then trickled into a few friendships as well. In May I returned home for a wedding, but also made time to continue recreating a close relationship with my family, especially my mom. During that time I was intent on staying in Pennsylvania. Boarding my return flight I was filled with regret, sadness and dread. There was some hope, left over from emotional pow-wows I'd had with my mom, but I mostly wanted to throw open the emergency exits on the plane, glide down the inflatable slides and start all over again, even if it meant living with my parents again.

Third time's the charm, right? Tomorrow I'll sadly board the plane bringing me back to Berkeley. Yet as sad as I will be leaving my family once again, there is some excitement. Maybe two weeks has made the good ole' "absence makes the heart grow fonder" adage work. Two weeks away from my job and my apartment and my bills and my sour roommate situation has made me antsy to get back and ameliorate every part of my life- as soon as I get back.

Is my eagerness just one of those things? Kind of like reading a fitness magazine in a waiting room. In those five minutes before the doctor, dentist or whomever calls you into the examination room, you breeze through the pages and make yourself believe that once you get out of there you'll go straight home, lace up your running shoes and jog into your new life as an exercise fanatic. I mean- don't all those smiley, shiny, barbell wielding models look so happy?

But we all know what happens when you get home. You open the fridge, see the Olive Garden leftovers, slouch on the couch and lie to yourself that you'll lace up those running shoes tomorrow, when it's not so hot, when you're not so full, when your I-pod is charged.

I can't make a promise in this blogosphere that once I get off the plane I'll run to my roommate and try to make things right. That I'll spend the entire night of my return editing my resume and cover letter. I know I won't do it. My relaxation while on vacation has strangely and unexpectedly brought matter-of-fact clarity about certain situations in my life. I'm in love with an amazing patient man and I feel blessed that we've overcome so many bumps and take it as a sign we can get through anything. I realize that I have to get a second job, even if it's at Safeway. I have to quit avoiding problems and instead need to become more proactive and use the voice I have to express myself even if I'm wrong. I have to take help that people give me without feeling guilty but instead expressing gratitude. And I have to do what I love- which I'm not sure what that is, but I'm getting closer.

Again, these realizations may be a product of a stress free and love filled vacation. Once I return I may just fall back into old patterns. But I look at it as my last chance in California. If I want to make it fulfilling there are things I need to do. If I want to be lazy, I can remain broke and return to Pennsylvania to start at square one, except this time living with my parents.

I'll keep you posted.

hey y'all

There are many things one might assume would eliminate the pain, accentuate the positive. For example, floating underneath the warm Isle of Palm sun rays on a hot pink raft- a beautiful contrast to the chlorine blue waves beneath. Or perhaps lounging on a plush suede couch sipping on red wine before bed after a long day of swimming, sunning and tennis. Maybe even being surrounded by the family you haven't seen in months, all in the best of spirits because it's vacation silly.

But I'm sad. Because I don't know what I did wrong. I never get an explination I always get the blame. I know I've done wrong a thousand times before, but not knowing is frustrating and it leads to failure. I mean- I never understood biology and I had to take it three times! I didn't know anything! And until I had a teaching assistant who coached me through the entire course, I had no idea what was going on, therefore I couldn't succeed. the same goes for relationships. When you have no idea what's going on- you have no idea how to ameliroate, how to progress. . .how to end?

My mom confinscated my phone because it was making me cry. She has hid it and I won't get it back until. . .I don't know. I'm glad because it's been easier to focus on my tanning and tennis schedule. Yet the questions I have in my head are undying and unanswered- haunting. At times I want answers, other times I think maybe no answers will make it easier for both parties involved to realize what is best for eachother. I'd like to say staying in love, but, apparently we have nothing in common.

Who knows? All I know is I can't sleep. I can't focus on anything else right now except my Coppola Malbec and him. I know if I drink one more glass I'll pass out, but I'll surely wake up, wondering what he's doing three hours behind. Then I'll give myself a mental wrist slap and try to think about something else, something that doesn't cause the wounds in my heart to throb and once again let tears wet my sun kissed face.

Tuesday was better than Monday and today was better than yesterday. Tomorrow hopefully I won't think about whatever happened at all. Hopefully I'll be able to think more seriously about the pros and cons of moving back east and fixing my resume and renting kayaks and drinking beer with girlfriends who are in similar situations as I. Comisserating on the beach with booze will last for about five minutes and quickly segue into a good time. And that's what vacation is about.

Same ole.

I need to sign up for direct deposit because otherwise I end up eating boxed Indian food with eggs and a hot-dog bun. Talk about scraping the bottom of the barrel. Checks weren't delivered today, therefore I have to wait until tomorrow and until them pine for the gourmet meals I waste my money on. Like last night's Serrano pepper burgers with brie, raspberry and spinach with red wine. Delightful but now I'm broke.

This is a direct result from my low paying job. Despite falling in love with all of my co-workers recently, I still hate that I get paid poorly. It's not brain surgery, but as I've grown with the company I've begun to embrace it, therefore working harder and caring more about the quality of not only my work, but everyone else's. This must account for something monetarily. Right? I mean, ice cream scoopers make more than I do! I overheard that the people who sweep on Telegraph make $13.75/hr! Och!

Next Friday I leave for a two week vacation which will leave me relaxed but severely crippled financially. If things do not get better I will probably be packing my bags for Pennsylvania in the coming months. Oy vay.