I’ve found that depression is the reason that I kept with this blog. It’s the reason that many people who I read and comment to on a regular basis and I came into contact. Some sort of shared emotional tragedy and pretty words have that magic glue to cement people together.
At least that’s true in that casual, safe from a distance sort of way. I’ve had online journals before, but they have hidden behind fandoms and pleasantries that hide who I am. But this one is different. It’s followed me and I’m excited because it’s getting more exposure, more traffic and yet those casual safe from a distance sort of way folks are still here reading.
I think it’s safe to say that I’m actually proud of myself.
All that being said, I was really hesitant to call this case “closed”; I’m not sure that depression really goes away. All I know is that I’ve been off of my medication for a little over a month now and I feel good. I have bad days, I have good ones, and I’m having great ones too.
And I’m writing.
I used to hate having chapters with neat, happy endings, but lately, my life has changed my mind.
Ex called me a while back. I didn’t tell him that I was moving… I didn’t really think to.
I’ve passed the point where hearing his voice makes me roll in my gut. That hideous little snake of depression and anxiety that he always brought up has died. I can feel it rotting away sometimes when I think about how hard I tried to be straight and how it has obviously affected him. It’s his little slips that catch me biting my tongue, calling me “babe” out of that 15 year habit is one of them.
I can’t bring myself to be angry with him, not anymore. He’s screwed us both over in a multitude of ways, mine are mostly monetary aches that I just have to keep paying monthly till they fade away like my guilt snake.
I want to be angry with him. I want to ask why I lost all of my friends over this. I want to ask how it feels to be “right” because he’s the straight one. I want to be angry so badly but I don’t have it in me anymore. It feels like it would be easier to be angry than to admit that he’s never going to truly go away. The fact of the matter is that I’m always going to care for him. I’m always going to remember him. I am always going to hope the best for him.
But I don’t feel responsible for his future anymore. And you know what? I think that’s how it’s supposed to be.
Oh, this has been a whirlwind two months, my blogfriends. I moved from the hell hole, I’m not getting my deposit back because I left some things there (but I did leave the place MUCH CLEANER than I got it). My ladyfriend moved in with me for the summer and she helped me move. It’s been really interesting, we sniped at each other a bit, but there was no major blow up and we’re almost all settled in.
Our new place is small. Extremely so, but it’s very nice. We’re slowly getting down to purging and unpacking things, the closet, a pile, and some shelves need to happen but we’ve definitely slowed down. My goal is to set up three more shelves today and put things on them. It’s real cozy and I love it here.
Ladyfriend can walk to work and I am only 8 minutes away by car. It’s really nice to be so … I dunno, close to everything. I can walk everywhere that I want to and I am enjoying the sort of relaxed freelance kinda feeling. Speaking of Freelance, I’m doing very well with the freelance job. So well, in fact, I am planning to be out of debt entirely in six years.
After that…maybe I’ll quit my main gig. I sort of daydream about having the freedom to go wherever I want whenever I want to go. Freelance is freedom for me. Once my debts are all paid up I am really not that expensive a person. Little apartment, enough food and time with my dogs is all I need.
It’s an odd thing to have choices. Lady Luck is smiling upon me. I’m not an expressly spiritual person, but I feel like something is looking out and that as long as I keep myself open, good things will come my way. Optimism is a nice thing to wear.
A discussion with a friend over email sparked a thought of mine that I figured I’d expand upon here. Love is such a tricky topic. I’m honestly not entirely sure that anyone really wants to be loved. Not at first, at least. I know that this is counter to a lot of things, and may make me sound like a totally cold person. I’m not. I love and I am loved. I’m loved more than I feel like I can understand some days. It is WORTH it to love and be loved. But hear me out, because love itself is terrifying.