I haven't necessarily forgotten about this, I just...I don't know. I would love to say I've been busy, but I haven't. I would love to say...a lot, and yet...there's not a lot to say.
I'm down here. Florida. Sunshine, palm trees, beaches...the promise land. Chuck and I survived the trip, even without air conditioning, got my stuff moved into Paul's, got posters hung up, internet set up, and set up house. Living with Paul is nice. We get along well, a lot better than I expected, actually. He's a little moody and a bit on the needy side...which is fine, at this juncture, because I'm moody and have no life, so I can fill the needy part.
The job search has been fairly fruitless thus far...it's not for lack of trying. It's just that I seem to be striking out. Which is surprising to me...especially with Starbucks. Hell, that was my fallback option. And yet, no one's called.
Gone to the doctor, who referred me to a psychiatrist, who has changed my medication. From Prozac to Cymbalta...which works with serotonin and norepinephrine receptors, instead of just serotonin. (an SNRI) (I've done some research into the brain chemistry aspect of both drugs...mostly because I'd like to know what's going in my body.) All my other meds have been suspended, because she seems to think that my panic attacks and anxiety will decrease on this new one. She also seems to think that this will help my insomnia, which she seems to think is depression-based. Which...I don't necessarily know if I fully believe or not, but norepinephrine deals a part in sleeping, so. Maybe. I've also basically been ordered to start seeing a psychologist or counselor, and am on the hunt for one now in my area. I haven't had a lot of luck in past situations with counseling, but...I guess I'll try again.
I joined up with one of those online dating sites, not necessarily to date or find a boyfriend, but honestly, to hang out with someone my own age. However, two different boys have taken me out, and then proceeded to drop off the face of the earth. Which is frustrating. That, combined with the number of random dudes sending me gross messages and annoying things like "ur teh hawtnez" ...I'm probably going to shut down my profile after I finish this. As much as I desire interaction with 20somethings, I don't think this was the way to go about it...which sucks. It's hard to meet people when you're broke, unemployed, and not in school.
There are days where I can't get out of bed. Where all I do is cry. Or have one panic attack after another. Fits of rage. Days where I don't leave my room, forget to eat, or do nothing but clean or something else obsessively. I've noticed that as of late, I'm losing things more often--physical items (such as shoes, my phone, and keys) and abstract things, such as my train of thought. My short-term memory seems to have completely disappeared. It's bizarre. I feel more "crazy" than ever. And while it's amazing to have my mom here, supporting me and loving me...I see her sometimes, gazing at me when she thinks I'm not paying attention, this look of pain on her face. I hurt her. My illness hurts her. I feel like a burden on her, both emotionally and financially. And that hurts me.
It's that feeling of being a burden that is the only real fire under my ass to pretend to be a functioning member of society. Getting a job, back in school, the whole lot. I honestly just want to focus on feeling less...*bad* and feeling better.
A very large part of me is distracted by Greg. Again, still? Yes, again. Still.
Another perfect example of my life. I spend months pouring myself and my best intentions into this weird relationship-friendship thing, we say our goodbyes, he goes his way, I go my way, and just when I've convinced myself that he's better off in his present situation...his engagement is broken off. I'm not sure who's done the breaking. I'm not sure where he n the girl stand. All I know is that I'm worried about him...and his flirting with me did not help the tiny shiver of hope that wiggled down my spine. Nor has anyone else's input...especially a former co-worker emailing me, telling me to "get on that, because he's crushed on me since the first day he met you." >_< GAAAAAH. This is not what I need to hear. This is not what I need to be thinking about. And right now, it's taking every ounce of self-control I can muster not to borrow some gas monies from my mum and drive up there to see him. Not to call him. Not to barrage him with texts and shit. I've made it clear that I'm here, if he wants to talk...but he should know me well enough to know that I run on caffeine, nicotine, worrying, and a pinch of visionary imagination. But I swing back and forth, side to side, and all over the place in trying to figure out how I feel, what I should do, and if I should even get involved. I told him this many a-times, and I've meant it every time: all I want for him is for him to be happy. With me, without me, with Brooke, alone, whatever. I have my ideas and preferences as to how to get him there, but...at the end of the day, not my life. All I can do is support him.
So.
I guess you're wondering if Florida's really a better place than the Lou. The answer right now, is an astounding cry of "I have no idea." But...I'm here now. So. All I can do is continue to try and make it work.
