Break up Depression
Jax stopped by with a pan of chicken and pasta and a loaf of French bread because she saw that I’ve been losing weight. I totally appreciate the gesture— even though I actually prefer being less than 200lbs. She also encouraged me to start dating again and stop trying to make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear.
Jax has all types of wisdom. She’s a great storyteller too. Like when she told about stuffing a bag of her puppy’s poop in her jacket pocket and forgetting about it until she noticed the smell in the middle of a grocery store. She wondered what people thought as she walked by.
Other wisdom came from retiring Dr. Freeman who reminded me of the potential 299,999,999 other dating options that are available to me. I was too deep in the pits of depression to respond with any sense of hope.
Fortunately, I went to the doctor today for a SSRI prescription, which will take effect in about a month. She was very respectful, honoring me for being bold enough to seek help, considering my profession. More important to me right now is the recommendation of zzzQuil, in order to get more than three or four hours a night. Perhaps this will help me from getting all weepy-eyed about spelling my name to a doctor’s office and remembering that the one I love used to call me Pheven as a joke. Or screaming while driving down the road. “ why can’t you tell me what I did wrong so I have chance to fix it.?”
And then it dawns on me that trying to “fix” something right now is based on a way of being that suggests that I’m not good enough. And from that way of being, I’m trapped in a hellish mental game that convinces me repeatedly that I’m the one at fault because I just don’t do anything right—ever.
I realize that I made this up. And the scramble for brain cells has led me to medication—for now. And a whole lot of hassle over one person who chooses to remain tight-lipped about his reasons for wanting out of our relationship. I can make up a different story that involves adventure and exploration. And a world of support.
Jax has all types of wisdom. She’s a great storyteller too. Like when she told about stuffing a bag of her puppy’s poop in her jacket pocket and forgetting about it until she noticed the smell in the middle of a grocery store. She wondered what people thought as she walked by.
Other wisdom came from retiring Dr. Freeman who reminded me of the potential 299,999,999 other dating options that are available to me. I was too deep in the pits of depression to respond with any sense of hope.
Fortunately, I went to the doctor today for a SSRI prescription, which will take effect in about a month. She was very respectful, honoring me for being bold enough to seek help, considering my profession. More important to me right now is the recommendation of zzzQuil, in order to get more than three or four hours a night. Perhaps this will help me from getting all weepy-eyed about spelling my name to a doctor’s office and remembering that the one I love used to call me Pheven as a joke. Or screaming while driving down the road. “ why can’t you tell me what I did wrong so I have chance to fix it.?”
And then it dawns on me that trying to “fix” something right now is based on a way of being that suggests that I’m not good enough. And from that way of being, I’m trapped in a hellish mental game that convinces me repeatedly that I’m the one at fault because I just don’t do anything right—ever.
I realize that I made this up. And the scramble for brain cells has led me to medication—for now. And a whole lot of hassle over one person who chooses to remain tight-lipped about his reasons for wanting out of our relationship. I can make up a different story that involves adventure and exploration. And a world of support.
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