As if I was the mayor
I'm running shit, up in this bitch. It's funny, but my group for this class has gotten to be a really great one. They sort of defer to me because I've done this before, but they still step up and take the helm once in a while, too. We all participate and get along, and that's cool.
Things are going pretty smoothly, so far. We haven't dug into the real meat of the assignment, though.
So, I went to the doctor today. When he asked me how I was, I said, "Fine. Depressed. But fine." He said, "Well, which is it?" I pretty much unleashed on him, calmly, but firmly. I'm fucking sick of being depressed. It's something completely out of my control, and I've got people telling me to basically pull myself up by the bootstraps and get over it. It is not working. It hasn't worked for a long time, now.
This last week was the last straw, for me. I told the doctor that I fucked up a potentially workable relationship with a guy I really like because I couldn't stop worrying it to death. I started chatting with him with the intent of arranging a lunch date, and turned it into a breakup. I have no idea what possessed me to do it. I didn't even know, at the time. That just blows.
I told the doc that I was having trouble getting motivated to do school work. I haven't been eating. This will be the fourth night that I have come home and not eaten anything. Nothing appeals to me. I don't sleep well.
This is not me. This is not who I am, and I'm not satisfied with my life being this way. I won't get a second chance to work things out with that guy. I don't get to do things over. I don't want a similar thing to happen again.
So, we're working on that. The doctor was pretty pissed off that I didn't call him or go in as soon as I got depressed. What can I say? I'm a do-it-yourself-er.
Work is still plodding along. I'm getting that flame baptismal, but I'm doing all right with it. I got a hardy, "you rock!!!" from the BA that I admire, for completing a task one day ahead of deadline. Praise from people I respect is always great. The other BA, the nice lady, sent an email out to some other people, praising my work. I guess I surprised people with my competence. Competence should not be so rare, methinks. Either way, that made me feel pretty good.
Penguin took me to lunch today, and spent most of the time trying to figure out a way to find me a man. It was only slightly depressing. We were sitting in the same restaurant, at the same table, and I was eating the same food as I had done in my last lunch date with the Unnamed One. Nothing says "I'm over him" like reliving your last public date with him. Christ.
I won't even go into how much it hurt to have to find my bra in the living room, where I left it Saturday night. The futility of all of this just frustrates me insanely. Again, it's not really the guy. I think the guy's tops, really. He's cool, but it's not him. It's the frustration of losing control of my emotions. It makes me so angry that I had to keep stirring the damn pot, when I didn't really mean it, deep down. It angers me that I am so hurt by this--this very insignificant event. It's like driving a car that doesn't react predictably to your steering.
It's getting to be time to go birding again. I think I might go to Gilbert this weekend. That should be good for the soul.