I. Sometimes, a therapy session feels like a staring contest with
awkward silences and irrational tears. Am I getting anything out of
it? A little bit.
B. I’m one of those people who is happier with the more they have to
do. Simultaneously, I resent being told I have to do things by other
people. Obligations make me cranky.
Tres: There are nine books sitting on my dresser right now, all of
which need to be read for my thesis. Not a single one has been touched.
Quatre: My youngest cat likes to play soccer. We have a small ball
that she chases around the house. When we tired of playing with her,
we could just put it up on a shelf in our wall unit.
V. Recently, my therapist broached the suggestion of getting a medical
consult. This scares the shit out of me.
F. I drove an hour and a half for an interview yesterday. I still
haven’t decided if that’s where I want to be.
Seite: To help motivate me, I bought a new flash drive to store all my
paperwork for my thesis. I’ve moved my documents over, but haven’t
added any new ones.
Huit: She has since figured out how to jump high enough and swat hard
enough to get this ball. We’ve since given up on trying to take it
away from her.
IX: It scares the shit out of me because I never thought I’d have to
resort to medication to fix me. Boy told me to stop being such a
prideful ass and think about whether or not this is going to make me
feel better.
J. I forgot how good I am at rocking interviews. But at the same time,
I couldn’t help but wonder if that was really me or is that just a
persona I carry now?
Once: It’s not that the books or subject material don’t interest me.
They do. Really. I just can’t seem to stay focused on anything for
more than a few minutes these days.
Douze: I really think that summer is so much better because of So You
Think You Can Dance. But I very strongly feel that Comfort needs to go
home, lest one of the other more versatile dancers be sent home in her
place.
XIII. In some ways, he’s right. I need to stop focusing on the why
this happened, and focus more on the how to move beyond it. I never
thought I’d be able to discuss this sort of thing with him.
N. The me I was in the interview was bright, smart, witty, full of
relevant stories, and a super qualified candidate. The me I am now
just wants to go back to bed.
Quince: My best friends have called me out on repeating the same
things or asking the same questions several days in a row. I didn’t
know memory loss was a side effect of depression.
Seize: My parents are trying to make this transition easier on me by
offering to lease a new car for me to get around. It would be easier
if they weren’t constantly trying to pull one over the other.
XVII. It’s strange in some ways how much it means to be able to lay
all my problems out carte blanche with him. I’ve never experienced
this level of openness and honesty with a lover.
R. Recounting the interview is sort of like watching a home movie of
yourself during a time which you blocked most memories out. “I did
that? Really?”
Diecinueve: All of this means nothing, as I still have a tremendous
amount of work to do and am paying 1200 per credit to do it.
Vingt: In some ways, I’m glad they’re still fighting. It means I can
disguise this more easily.
XXI. But maybe in some ways, his act of genuinely caring for me means
caring for everything about me. Good and bad. And somehow, this makes
things with him so much better.
V. It seems imbalanced. Like I haven’t figured out which one of those
me’s I want to be.
Veintitres: Maybe I’ll get around to opening one of those books
tomorrow. Maybe not.
Vingt-quatre: I haven’t told them yet about my recent relapse to
therapy. I think they’d blame themselves again, when it’s really just
me.
XXIV. It’s funny how depression makes you see things more clearly than
you did before.
Z. Can I be both sides of the equation? I feel like I should be
solving for x, but perhaps I’ve been solving for y all along.
Jess Gill
writes here.
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