Annual Psych Eval
I'm prescribed antidepressants. Sometimes I take them, other periods, I don't. Not sure why, just get a wild hair up my ass sometimes and I simply... stop. Maybe it's to remind myself why I need the damn things--that I function better with the miracle of science. Maybe it's a trial, a test to decide if I can still sacrifice my creativity and emotional depth for stability. Or maybe it's just because I suddenly decide I don't wanna, and my 5 year-old has a tendency to drive more than is sane. Hard to say, but I suppose I feel compelled to try.
I was watching "Jobs" last night. There's a great moment between Steve Jobs and his daughter Lisa. She says, "Why didn't you just tell me that?" and he responds, "I am poorly made." The enormity of that simple statement struck me right across the nose. I found myself wondering only a moment ago why humans are so poorly made, why *I* am so poorly made. Needy and insecure, always. Anything else is a finely spun lie, whether it's one I believe or one I just want someone else to believe, still false. I feel morbidly obese, but I can't stop feeding my mouth.
I feel lost. I don't know what I like any more, I have no real hobbies to speak of, and I'm completely disinterested in my work. I'm so damn tired of the fucking race, the never-ending challenge of making rent, finding my person. Gah. The idea of dating makes me gag. Meeting some stranger, getting attached, becoming detached, rinse repeat. Most days I prefer my Netflix and a cocktail to dealing with the general masses.
I was watching "Jobs" last night. There's a great moment between Steve Jobs and his daughter Lisa. She says, "Why didn't you just tell me that?" and he responds, "I am poorly made." The enormity of that simple statement struck me right across the nose. I found myself wondering only a moment ago why humans are so poorly made, why *I* am so poorly made. Needy and insecure, always. Anything else is a finely spun lie, whether it's one I believe or one I just want someone else to believe, still false. I feel morbidly obese, but I can't stop feeding my mouth.
I feel lost. I don't know what I like any more, I have no real hobbies to speak of, and I'm completely disinterested in my work. I'm so damn tired of the fucking race, the never-ending challenge of making rent, finding my person. Gah. The idea of dating makes me gag. Meeting some stranger, getting attached, becoming detached, rinse repeat. Most days I prefer my Netflix and a cocktail to dealing with the general masses.