hey kids: watch me chase my tail!

it’s getting real up in here bisches. in an effort to be completely true up in here i’m letting you in on a little secret: i’m a fucking idiot.

well…i am and i’m not.

you see…there’s this boy…

and now it’s all making sense…isn’t it?

you may have heard me mention the new boy. he’s a doll. he really is. he smart, funny, easy to be around, well respected among his peers, driven, has a plan laid out and is actively pursuing it. he’s worked hard to get here and doesn’t take anything for granted.

he’s also a gentleman- he likes to hold my hand out in public, put his arm around me, make sure everybody knows i’m with him…

he insists on opening my door for me when i get in or out of a car…absolutely insists on it…

he’s very concerned about me…you know…he really likes to know where i’m going and with whom…and it’s very disrespectful if i don’t let him know…

he’s concerned about my health and likes to know what medicine the doctor prescribed and check the container to make sure i’m taking it…

he’s never felt this way with anyone before…i’m different, i’m special, i’m an angel made just for him and he loves me…

he’s sensitive, so i need to be careful about how i talk to him so i don’t offend him or show disrespect…

and by the way…he’s a MAN. from a MAN’S culture. you know…an in charge man…

hunchback of notre’ dame having a field day in anyone else’s head? it’s like a four alarm fire up in my head…sirens and bells and whistles going off in every. single. direction.

can i solve the puzzle vanna? CONTROL FREAK.

what do i win? oh wait…

i know…it may seem like i’m just being me and bailing out early, but after all these years, i think my gut is pretty finely tuned and i may be finally learning to listen to it.

is he a great guy to be around? heck yeah. fun to dance with, dinner the other night was GREAT. i adore his roommate and his fiancé- they’re adorable to hang out with. all in all he treats me well. he’s strong, confident, lavishes attention on me. it all seems great…right?

but there’s this gut feel. the way he’s not just holding my hand, he’s marking his territory. the way he doesn’t seem to know my real name (calling me baby is NOT acceptable). the way he ½ asks, ½ orders a drink. how he refuses to be around my kids. how he HATES my cat (normally i could understand this, but most guys would just ignore, not antagonize).

there’s the way i got lectured (not yelled at, not berated, simply lectured) for going out saturday night with friends and not letting him know…according to him it was a matter of respect (or disrespect as the case may be).

the fact that i told him (**TMI DISCLAIMER**) that i had an infection in the lady parts (seriously Trojan? could you make a condom that DOESN’T cause an INSTANT yeast infection already please??) and he wanted to check the prescription and see the medicine to make sure that i wasn’t just making up an excuse to not “make the sex” with him

then fact that i’m making excuses…

yes, part of it is his culture. i do understand that it’s a male dominant culture. and i do understand that some of the things he talks about are basic respect issues and i honestly am not used to having someone to check in with…and YES, there is a difference between checking in and asking permission. any married couple or dating couple would naturally let their partner know where they’re at out of respect. they’re not asking permission- they’re just letting someone know in case of emergency, for information, to prevent worry…

but since when do i fall into that category of having someone to let know?

and part of me says that if he wants to become a citizen then he’s going to have to adapt to our culture. arrogant? probably. stupid american thinking? most likely. overly independent woman thinking? definitely.

and yes, i have PMS, so i’m reacting a little more strongly to things than i normally would. but that doesn’t give him a free pass. yes, there is a language/culture barrier and there’s bound to be some misunderstanding. and yes, i’m an abnormally independent, strong willed, out spoken female, but that doesn’t mean i can’t be taken down a peg or two and learn to be a partner as well…

oh wait…that one flipped around on me. damn.

i don’t know. there’s warning bells, but i STRONGLY also believe there’s a reason this is happening. we discovered last night that he had seen me before on the fish sight…yes, THAT fish sight. and he had even emailed me…he knew my profile- the pictures i had posted, what i had written about myself…he remembered that from months ago…so…you know…how random that i stuck out in his memory, he had messaged me then and met me now?

the alarm bells are ringing, and i’m listening. but i’m also trying to be patient and not jump ship quite yet. i’m trying to control my rip cord reflex, but that doesn’t mean i’m taking my hand off the cord just yet…

this has taken a turn…typing it all out has really made me think about it. maybe the reason we’re together is because we’re BOTH such strong personalities and there’s a LOT we could learn from each other. i could learn the difference between control and concern, and he could learn about equality and partnership. i think we might balance each other out. we’ve had a few scraps already, but not knock down drag out’s…we’ve both been able to present our side of things and talk through it rationally…not too many people i can do that with at all…and i’m guessing it’s the same for him. and i’m guessing there’s not many WOMEN, if any at all that would be willing to do that with him. we’re both strong enough to speak for ourselves and both willing to listen to the other person…damn you brain and your turning things around on me…

how do i even sum this up?

YES, i recognize the warnings, and YES, i’m paying attention to them. i’m also recognizing my need to soften my edges and let someone be nice to me and not question every single nice thing someone does.

i think i’ll take a nap now. chasing my own tail is exhausting.

trying to explain depression

so i battle depression. and by battle i mean full on gladiator style battle some days. a dohyo face off with the world’s biggest sumo wrestler. most people kinda get it- they’ve had bad days or been sad about something. some have no clue and like to mock depression as stupid/weak/imaginary. until recently i’ve never really thought of a way to fully explain it. explain what it feels, like, how real it is, anything in a way that makes sense. i think this explains it. for me anyway:
remember when you were a kid and your big brother thought it would be funny to hold you under a huge thick blanket and keep you there as long as he could? yeah…it’s like that. like being trapped under grandma’s giant afghan (and yes, i very specifically picked an afghan) until you screamed uncle. and even then most times my brother still wouldn’t let me up. it’s like that. an afghan: it’s huge and heavy and dark but there are always little places where light pokes through and sometimes you can find an edge to pull back. depression is like that. you’re trapped under this huge, heavy, dark blanket fighting like hell to find an edge or a way to get out but in the mean time every once in a while you can see little spots of light that give you a little hope and let you know that at least you’re not stuck under the blanket AND locked in the trunk of the car AND on the way to be encased in cement (if my brother could have thought of it…he would have).
and i get that depression is so different for everyone. the things they’re dealing with are different. the way they experience it and how much it impacts them is different. but for me, people can’t understand my depression. yes, i’m depressed, i’m stuck under this huge fucking blanket being smothered and fighting like hell to try to get out, but during the fight there’s these spots of light. those are moments of happiness, breaks in the clouds.

just because i’m depressed doesn’t mean i don’t have good moments and just because i have good moments doesn’t mean i’m not depressed.

even in the worst of it i will still try to crack a joke or enjoy a moment or sing along with a song. i still try to put on my happy face (which i suck at by the way). i’m sure everyone knows something is off. i know i’m not fooling anyone, i know i’m not good at hiding shit, and part of me thinks i shouldn’t have to, but at the same time they don’t know how deep it is. but there’s these holes in the afghan…i’m peeking out through those, reminding myself what’s on the outside and what i’m fighting to get back to. little glimpses of light and life. if i do have a few good moments, it doesn’t mean i’m “cured” it just means i had a moment where i saw a little light. i’m still stuck. i’m still trapped under that huge fucking weight with the universe sitting on my chest laughing and not letting me up. but then there’s times when you actually feel like you’re winning the battle…you manage to find an edge and peek out and get a breath and feel like yourself again, but then big brother notices and ducks you back under the blanket for another round and usually packs an extra punch just because. those are the most frustrating. you think you’re clear, you think you’re out…then just as suddenly, you’re not. i don’t know if it ever goes away. when i was a kid my brother would get bored or get in trouble and have to let me out…i’m not sure real depression plays by those rules. in fact, i’m pretty damn sure it doesn’t play by any rules.

and i’ve had doctors and people tell me that there are medications to help. and i’ve tried a few. and i will never try any again. they make the crazy worse (again, just me speaking). they say right on the package it will take MONTHS, yes MONTHS to adjust to them and know if they’re working and then MONTHS to wean yourself off of them if you ever want to stop. umm…no thanks. i still have to function in the mean time. i don’t exactly have a few months away from kids and life to try to adjust to some medication that may or may not work. they also say exercise is the answer- is there anything exercise ISN’T the answer to? fucking retards. i’m sure it works at some point. it gives you something to focus on and i’m sure it helps you feel better physically eventually (although everyone that i know that works out complains about always being sore…sooo…). and i’m sure whatever else goes with it is magical shit on a cloud, but i just can’t get into it. never have. i’m one of those people that has spent THOUSANDS on exercise equipment and videos and trying to get into it- i’ve had the gazelle, the elliptical, the videos, the exercise balls, the yoga mats…i just can’t get into it.

what’s the point of this? what am i really trying to say? i don’t know. i just want to say it’s real. and i’m fighting it. but i get tired. and i get worse. and i get better. it goes around and around. but it’s real. it’s very real. please don’t tell me on the days when i want to give up that i’m just being weak and stupid. please understand that i’ve been battling this for as long as i can remember and i get tired. i get exhausted. please don’t laugh at me or think it’s all fake just because i have a good moment or a good day or a good week. some days i’m stronger than others. some days a kindergartner hopped up on pixie sticks could kick my ass. it’s just been so frustrating listening to people say that my brother was weak and cowardly and gave up or couldn’t deal when he took his own life. i don’t see it that way. i think because i’ve fought the battles he fought. i’m still fucking fighting them. and if anything, his death has scared the fucking shit out of me because if he lost the fight…who’s to say i won’t? and i know it’s a personal choice and it’s a personal decision to continue on or not. but i understand why he chose not. i understand how tired and hurt and broken he felt. and more than once i’ve wanted to make the same choice. and more than once i’ve felt that it was too much and wanted a way out.
i guess i just want people to understand it better. understand me better. that’s all.