indiboi.com

Lastnight was just another one of those nights where nothing is happening and I can’t manage to get in touch with any of the people I’d want (and would geographically be able) to spend time with. As was expected I never heard from Matthew over the weekend, I really don’t know what his deal is anymore and there’s very little of me that even cares. While I can’t particularly say that I’m getting the cold shoulder from JayPea, it certainly feels like it, and I don’t really understand why either… regardless it doesn’t feel good and I’m feeling pretty disappointed with the situation.

So after an unreturned text message to him and hitting only voicemail when calling Matthew [I didn’t bother to leave a message, he’d not return it anyway], I decided to open that bottle of whiskey my brother gave me for xmess and give that a whirl while ‘chatting’ online… now, when I say ‘chatting’ I’m not particularly referring to talking to people on aim, but more of getting hit on by scary 50 year old men… amazingly enough only a couple of them were scary. I talked to about four people for more than a moment and one was a bit… odd and clearly didn’t get that I was being clever when insulting his incredibly poor writing skills. The second was a guy I’d talked to the last time I was chatting, and well, he seems pretty well put together from all I can tell, though a bit older than I’d really feel comfortable with I think. The other two seemed alright, around my age, and well, in a way, fairly unremarkable… which isn’t necessarily a bad thing. The thing I hate about all of this is that the vast majority are there just to find some random person to hook up with that night… to me that is practically the ultimate in revulsion.

In the midst of this, err, craziness, I was also talking with a friend of mine on aim, mostly just random stuff from all that I remember and I was complaining about the guy with the poor writing skills when he, for lack of any other way to assemble it, blurted out that he loves me.

Now, that in itself wasn’t all that staggering… I guess because I’ve felt that way about him for a good while and it does tend to run in pairs if you will. It was just the context, I hadn’t a clue what I should say at that point without the need for clarification. Then there was that moment, while being speechless, where I had to figure out how to word my request for clarification, heh… I kept thinking that I was glad it wasn’t in person or on the phone, otherwise my stupified jaw dropping would have been a bit embarassing, lol.

We’re both having our requisite trouble with guys, as usual it seems, so my suggestion was that we just abandon them all and get married, heh, he agreed.

I think I may have touched upon this whole marrying brothers deal in prior entries, but it really kind of bothers me when I think about it. Matt and Tiffany are getting married in February and David and Louise are getting married on some as yet unset date, and well… I’m the big brother that can’t quite manage to get more than a single date out of the guys I’ve been seeing, err, all year… with the exception of Mike and, well… I almost don’t want to count him because I knew him already (being insane doesn’t help his case either).

I’m not sure why I can’t make it work… it’s a lot easier, for me at least, to blame non-connection on me than the other person(s) involved, and there are several very obvious reasons… for all I know I’m deliberately (though not on a conscious level) sabotaging relationships… I can see how I’ve done it with friendships, after the fact, over the past year, but it’s just one of those things…

…I’m in probably the deepest depression I’ve ever been in, it’s just different because of everything I’d gone through the last time I suppose, I know how to cope… versus ignoring it, but still… a lot, if not all of, the things I do are designed to serve as a distraction and when I’m not so strongly distracted it all starts hitting me again.

I wonder where I would be and how I’d be, well, feeling, if Davey and I hadn’t split up… I think that’s probably the second most impactful reason, but then again, it ties directly to the first. I guess it’s all because deep down I still want that, with him, and I’m basically going to compare how everyone makes me feel to how he made me feel, both negative and positive… I don’t want to do that, at all, but even when I’m with this beautiful boy I get these flashes of being with Davey… and it’s upsetting. I guess I need to clarify though, because I’m in no way wanting the person I’m with to be someone else, but it’s like being haunted, in that cartoonish way, he’s this little devil on my shoulder telling me I’m going to fuck it up.

When you’ve become so used to everything being incredibly difficult, upon seeing something that looks ‘easy’, well, the first logical supposition about it is that it is a trap… cynicism at its finest. That was the biggest thing, JayPea seemed too excited to see me, so I kept putting it off… and continued to do so as it began to seem like there was something real happening, because I realized that I do like this guy… I was just too afraid to do something about it, because I was simply too scared of actually developing feelings and having them squished… which is exactly what seems to have happened anyway… and probably as a result of being so ’slow’ about things. I have no way of really knowing that and perhaps that is what is bothering me most right now, I guess I just need to know if all these paranoid thoughts have any truth to them or if they’re simply the thoughts of a guy having grown scared, cynical, and distrustful of everyone.

I did a little research today in regards to going back on my meds… it’s a double-edged sword and it seems like I’ve found a third edge even. You see, with depression, there’s a massive loss of sex drive, on meds, because happiness increases, the sex drive comes back, naturally; however, the medication itself inhibits the ability to do anything about it, which leads to another sort of depression. I don’t even know how to describe it really, but in the first case, without meds, there’s this incredible emotional discomfort that tends to act as an inhibitor, and with meds there’s a physical barrier. I’ve gone through so many different meds too, pretty much all of them cause the problem (and if you’ve not figured it out by now shoot yourself), I hate it….

So, I sort of had this moment, curled up in bed, those tears just trying to get out and I knew I had to do something about it. I think flat affect is one of the things I hate the most, it feels like I’m trapped within this body that won’t respond to my emotions; I want to cry, but I can’t… I want to love, but I can’t… the only one that seems to be able to get out, even in the slightest, is anger… perhaps because it’s such a primal type of emotion. Maybe it’s like some sort of post traumatic stress… basically being shell-shocked I guess.

I’d said to a friend, Rhonda, several months ago that if I didn’t start feeling better I would make the effort to get back onto meds, but I did start feeling better, or so I told myself at least. I desperately don’t want to be ‘in the system’ again, have a social worker and be required to see all these people on a regular basis… to have to wait (and, yes, this is, err, well, stuck up, prejudiced, or whatever, but…) at the mental health centre place… where there are all of these absolutely crazy people everywhere… it gives me the feeling, at least everytime I ever went there, that there was something very wrong with me… and in reality there is, there is a serious imbalance of nuerotransmitters, but I’m still a relatively normal and functional person… I guess it’s one of those things; nobody would necessarily know by looking at me, I hold myself together. I sometimes wish that I could stop and just basically ‘let go’ and get it all out, but I just can’t… I used to be able to drink myself into a state where I could just cry and keep crying until I passed out and apart from a possible hangover I usually did feel better the next day, but that just doesn’t work anymore.

So, I had this thought maybe two months ago of just going into my mom’s doctor’s office and showing the guy the bottle from my previous prescription and asking (demanding) that he write me a script… I never did that because I doubted it would work and didn’t want to pay $80 just to hear “no” in response to my request. Since I can’t quite seem to make a relationship work anyway, the idea of being on meds has gained a bit more appeal, as I’d not really be losing anything I’d want (or rather, be able) to use anyway. I decided to lookup how much the drugs would cost based on my previous prescription (which, in all reality, worked well enough for me to delude myself into thinking I was ‘okay’ …so that means it worked) and, well, I’d been descending into that relationship with Davey too, so I had environmental reasons to be happy that helped to overide the biological determinants just enough. It turns out that I’d have one hell of a time affording the damned pills anyway… upon cursory investigation each month would cost approximately $200. So, that folks, is the cost of happiness, heh… or rather, at least raising the general mood enough. Now, I highly doubt a doctor would prescribe anti-depressents without follow up, so add the cost of seeing the doctor to that and you’re biting pretty heavily into my income. If I had any form of positive credit I could, and would rather, use that nearly $300 for a car payment… as I desperately need my own transportation — if I had a way to travel wherever I wanted, whenever I wanted, I’d probably be happier anyway. Obviously paying out of pocket is not a viable option.

Getting a ‘real’ job isn’t an option either, for one I’ve worked everywhere around here already and was fired for reasons that directly relate to my depression… by the time insurance kicks in and I’m able to get onto meds I get fired because too often (and we’re talking usually about twice in a 3 month probationary period) I’d just not be able to get motivated enough to even want to go to work. The double edge of that is all of the other jobs don’t offer insurance that would make any real difference… and I’m not able to get ANY kind of ‘entry-level’ position anywhere because I’m massively overqualified. When I first moved back here from Pittsburgh I really wanted to work at Borders, just because I thought it would be fun and I really didn’t care that I’d be making next to nothing… of course nobody believes you when you say that you don’t care about the money…. they cannot possibly fathom why someone that has/does make more than $15 an hour (when I worked for First USA) would ‘lower himself’ to making min. wage… that little concept of ‘rather be poor and happy than wealthy and unhappy’ doesn’t register.

So, out of all of this, it’s clear that I need to get some assistance… it’s what I need to do, but… ugh, I really don’t want to, there’s already a huge stigma attached to the whole thing and then in the process you’re further degraded and stigmatized.

So, that’s that… for now.