0 to Depression, Real Quick
Well, it was a good three weeks or so of consistency and happiness. Guess my time of acting like an adult was sort-lived. Too bad my life is too complicated to handle it like a kid, though.
Here’s what’s happening. The night after my round of cutting I had another, which upped my total number of cuts to twelve. I was lying there on the floor and I couldn’t stop. Okay, I’d tell myself. This is the last one. After this you will call or text Isaac and ask for help. But four cuts later it still wasn’t happening. For those of you unfamiliar with cutting, let me share something about it that surprises me every time: I am always calm. I usually don’t shed a single tear while it’s happening. I don’t look longingly at my phone, or even consider going to anyone for help until after I’ve begun. Once the razor/scissors/etc. is in my hand, it’s a done deal. The world fades away and all that is left is the dull pain my body feels. But I’ll digress from further details. Finally I started to cry. I started thinking about what other people would say if they saw the cuts, I started thinking how they would be upset. (My only concern in terms of myself was being angry that I express depression in such a stereotypical way; the cuts don’t bother me, and the isolation is preferable because it caters to the cutting. It’s sick, I know, but it’s my vice. If the evidence wasn’t so obvious I would probably be a habitual cutter.) So, I finally texted Isaac.
[I’m] sorry to put this on you, but I just need to not be alone right now…do you mind if I study at your place?
He told me that he had stayed home all day sick, but that if it didn’t bother me then I could come over for a while. I wiped my tears and tried to tell myself over and over that I was doing the right thing. I had done what felt like the impossible and reached out, allowed myself to be dependent on Isaac…so why did I feel so guilty?
I got to his place and the tears started flowing. How could I get out of this car? Why does my life have to be like this? For the umpteenth time I wished my life could be normal. And right behind that wish I chastised myself and thought of all the people who have it worse off, like I always do. And then I cried more because I knew I should be happy and didn’t know how to fix this. Finally I got out of the car once my face was half-way decent. I leaned against the bumper and took lots of deep breaths; Just breathe, just breathe…you don’t have to go up to the door yet…You’re making the right decision…Stop berating yourself for bothering Isaac. Suddenly I looked up and saw him walking towards me. “Are you okay?” he asked. Before I could even think I heard the words, “Yeah, I’m fine,” pop out of my mouth. “Are you sure?” “Yeah.” “Are you really sure?” “No.” And then I was in his arms.
We talked until past midnight. First it was just cuddling and distraction talk like who were our favorite characters on Parks and Rec and which songs I liked off of his mix CD, but then later we got on topic. I told him that I had issues with depression and that I didn’t always handle it the right way. I told him my prescription of antidepressants needed to be increased. But I don’t think it really kicked in until we were making out later, and I tried to explain why I wanted to keep my clothes on. “Here,” I said, and took his hand so he could feel the cuts on my abdomen. “Is that…a cut?” “There’s more on my legs…well, leg. I didn’t want to freak you out.” But needless to say, he was freaked out.
“I don’t mean to sound callous, but…I think I need some time to think.” I nodded, trying not to think about it too hard. Earlier I had told him that if he wanted to bail, I’d understand. No one wants to sign up for a girlfriend like this, and I’d rather he be honest than make promises he can’t keep (like Jack and Landon). When I was about to leave he hugged me again, and we stayed like that for a while. I finally turned away, and he slowly let go of me…he looked sad. I told myself to be strong and I walked out the door without looking back. I tried to tell myself I didn’t just lose something really important.
But the funny thing is, as I walked away I realized how it was slowly becoming insignificant that Fred was out of my life. Isaac is the only person I want by my side right now (a part from my mom and roommates), and even if he chooses not to be there, than at least he’s more honest than most of the guys in my life have been. I won’t hold it against him if he decides that he no longer wants to see me, but I really hope that it doesn’t end that way. I really like Isaac and I don’t want to lose him. But either way, life goes on, and I’ll be okay. I have to be.
In other news, I’m going to a concert tonight with the person Fred cheated on me with, Miranda. They are a gender fluid/androgynous/transguy, and ever since we accidentally met on Okcupid we’ve been chatting. At first it was just about Fred, and keeping tabs on all the lies he’s been telling us, but now it’s about the other people we’re dating and just random life things. It’ll be the first time I’m meeting them in person, so I’m a little nervous, but mostly excited. We’re already sort of friends, so I figure there’s really no reason to be apprehensive. And besides, the concert should be a good time no matter if things get awkward. So even though it’s a strange situation, I’m looking forward to it. Miranda seems cool, and since I got these tickets for Fred for his birthday, it only makes sense for me to still go and take the person he was two-timing me with while he sits at home.
Life is strange right now, readers. I’m just trying my best to be okay, and taking baby steps. I handed over my razors to Caitlin and told her to please get rid of them. I’ve decided to go home this weekend and spend time with my mom. I’m going to call my doctor and ask for another prescription of Prozac. It might not seem like a lot, but it has to count for something.
I’m determined to get out of this mess.