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Reflection from January 12th, 2012 @ Age 30

RE:  POTENTIAL CONFLICTING-INTERESTS OF “FAMILY MEMBERS”, IN WISHING THEIR MENTALLY-ILL “LOVED” ONES WOULD JUST TURN NORMAL ALREADY.

Well my goodness—I thought Cooper and I were on the same page today.  I mean, he saw me leave in the morning with my laptop in my boho sweater dress and leggings; I mean, what the hell?  Why did he think I was going to work?  How could he think that when he knew I was in such a good mood?  It’s crazy!  I just found out that he thought that!  I don’t know how he didn’t realize while we’ve been IM’ing all day that I wasn’t even at work!  I even told him I couldn’t find parking and that it didn’t make any sense why the signs said “2 hour parking between 8am and 10pm”!  What the hell difference would that make if I were at work?!?!

Doesn’t make any sense to me.  Crazy thing is, I’ve basically not really worked this week at work, at all.  Which is (or is not) coincidental because I cut my Lamictal by 75mg/day on Sunday.  Left work early Monday to come home and work on the review materials for when I was to meet with Gordon on Tuesday; did not go in on Tuesday until 12pm, right before I met with Gordon for the review; left crying at 3:15pm after client showed up unannounced in the waiting room, right while I was meeting with Gordon to explain to him how ridiculous my work load is.  This lady shows up, because I have not called her back in a couple weeks, because Gordon has been pulling me in every which way that is fucking possible to get a million things done!  And I don’t want to do it!  So I guess I’m mentally ill!  Or at least I care less, because I remember now why there are other things that are so much more important.  Perhaps even worth dying for—I would ridiculously venture to say.

I know it’s crazy.  I know I’m not supposed to do this.  I know now, why people do this—because I now do it too.  God does it feel so much better to feel!!!  To feel anything!  But I guess that’s the problem; the medications keep me “grounded”, which is what I need to be so that I can be a “functioning member of society”.  But what the hell kind of good is being a fucking member of this society?  I know it’s crazy, the whole lot of it, of this—I know I’m not supposed to be here; but I am, and I don’t want to be, and I don’t know what to do about it.  Yep, here we are, back here a-fucking-gain.  Just watching myself float on away, while all the rest look on with such disdain.

So Cooper just found out “I left work early” and was pissed, so I didn’t tell him that I did not even go in at all to work today.  He would be furious.  Isn’t it so peculiar though?  How every time I decrease my medication, I remember the reason why this world is such a horrible place?  Yeah, okay, sit there and call me selfish, call me lazy, tell me I’m unrealistic, tell me what a horrible fucking breed I come from, my god those dreamers!!!

I sat in that coffee shop this morning—I was so happy, and now it makes me so sad.  It’s so funny how true it is—how different I am.  And yet you say you’re different and they say no, no!  You’re just the fucking same as everyone else!  Except then you’re there, and you’re fucking weird—and you’re really not like anyone else at all!

How quickly it returns, all those reasons I now remember, why I didn’t want to remain in this world in the first place.  I sit here and I write these words, and I know I’m not supposed to being doing that, I’m not supposed to be thinking that, not supposed to be living that, not supposed to be being that, whatsoever.  And yet, somehow, here I am!  Everything I’ve worked so hard to be!  All that time I’ve spent becoming a fucking lawyer!  Ohh what a wonderful life I had thought it would be!!!

Later

God am I dreading when Cooper gets home.  And I’m sure he’s dreading getting home himself!  It’s so funny how things change.  Just this morning I had all these plans, to get all these things done, got so many done; then found out Cooper found out, Cooper got mad—and now no dinner on the table, no workout at the gym, no painted nails, no finished laundry, just me all alone, sitting in a cold dark room, listening to the rain fall outside my window.

God I must sound so RIDICULOUS!  How dare I dream a dream?  Or at the very least, how dare I dream outside the ordinary confines of this American life.  God, what an asshole!  I can just hear what he’s going to say!  Have you changed your medications?  I can’t deal with this—I’m going to leave you if you don’t fix it.

What a fucking crock of shit.  No wonder I don’t fit in here.  I live in a world that doesn’t make any goddamn sense!  Or as they would say, of course, haha!  That girl is CRAZY!!!  So I don’t know, maybe it is all up in my head, bunch of assholes.  But then again, if it’s in my head, and my head is real, then it’s just my perception of what is around me, and so it’s not that I’m crazy—it’s just that my interpretation is somewhat different.  Is it not?