Now I remembered. It was because of the Plan. The Great Plan that involved kids and home and garden and a dog and which, as it came out, faded away like all my plans always do.

It’s good to be back on the meds though, it was HORRIBLE. I haven’t had such a hard time just staying alive for a few years now and I honestly was sure I will not see this through. But I did, I had some help (not from usual sources, from a bit extraordinary source) and meds are helping.

It’s horrifying, all this illness. I make a big effort just to stay sane and often all I back get is anger and misunderstanding. It’s awful, this illness, because that leaves nothing to you - if you’re depressed, you KNOW which part is you and which is illness (the non-depressed half of course), but if NOT BEING DEPRESSED is also part of your illness… Then what’s left? Nothing, right? EVERYTHING YOU ARE IS ILLNESS.

It’s a scary thought and I try not to think about it.

But meds are good. I love my meds more than ever. They make me feel normal and I love feeling normal. Normal is good. Normal is more than good. Normal is the best.

Stay sane,

kisses,

Yours truly.

I know that I have to go back on the pill ’cause this episode was far too much that I can handle. It was SCARY. I was actually…

And then: boom!

Sometimes I wonder who are those people close to me - the ones that are supposed to know me the best, who are supposed to know how my episodes work, how fragile I can be, how much I struggle just to put on a smiling face… They are supposed to be there, occasionally slap on my wrist if I go to far, but still - BE there.

These are the moments that are so scarily similar to the one moment on this dreadful May night two years ago. The night when I saw the one person who was the closest to me, transform into this horrific, angry, shallow, hurtful person that I didn’t even know anymore. I guess this is the one thing that has been one of my greatest concerns after that - how can I trust a person when I know that transformation from loving to i-will-burn-your-eyeballs-out, goes SNAP!, just right that?

And you can’t.

In the end it all comes down to equality. I hurt you, you hurt me. I support you, you support me. I act stupid, you act stupid. I don’t apologize, you don’t apologize. I don’t give you this thing, then you will act back and will not give me that thing.

Love. Basic transaction.

Although I know more people are reading this “secret” blog these days. Please do not take this personally. I just need to vent and perhaps leave some explanation behind.

(bad joke)

I’ve swam in the waves of Deep Depression before but for a four or five years now I’ve never thought about The S-word so seriously as these days. It’s just - walls are closing in and I don’t see ANY solution whatsoever to my (mainly financial) problems. Really, there’s no solution. None. Nada. Nul.

And this weight is suffocating me, I can’t breathe, I can’t sleep, I can’t work, I can’t function. It’s harder and harder to hold up this face that everything’s fine. I’m okay. It’ll be okay. I’m fine.

Well, you know what - I’m really not. And there’s no one who can help me, seriously. That’s why I don’t ask for help - no one can do anything.

I have a appointment with my psych in two weeks and I really hope to last till then. But I know he can’t do much either.

The weird thing is - I’m not even crying anymore.

Have to go now, have to act Loving Girlfriend.

Ok, I get that New Bf isn’t the easiest or the most outgoing or fun person. Actually, he’s sometimes totally the opposite of Randy. Of course, it’s easy to love Randy. He was fun and always so easygoing, he was the heart and soul of a group. That way we were a perfect couple, always laughing and joking and partying.

Nowadays I go everywhere alone just because it’s easier than to deal with New Bf being all judgmental and mad at people who like to party or sometimes make stupid things just for the laughs of it.

Like I do. Man, how I LOVE doing stupid things. Sometimes I think I’m so grateful that I’m me just because when I’m old and think back at my life I feel never bored. Yes, ashamed maybe sometimes, but bored - never! Stupid things are fun!

But yeah. I’m tired my sister is always taking up the Randy subject and that she reminds me what I let go. I think that maybe I wouldn’t miss Randy at all if there wasn’t her constantly reminding the good times.

And that’s just it. She saw the good times. When we had bad times she had bad times with her husband and I never told her. Maybe if I would’ve she would understand better.

But still. If I could forgive her husband for treating her like shit, if I gave HIM another chance why can’t she do the same?

I hate that lately this relationship is all about battle. Battling with my friends, battling with my acquaintances, battling with my family. And sometimes, yes, battling with myself because it’s so damned hard. I read all this stuff about how boyfriends are supposed to be all adoring and loving and mine is always trying to change me or discipline me. I know he doesn’t do it because he’s mean or anything. It’s just how he is. Trying to make world more of the place he would like it to be (and totally ignoring that everyone has their own view and their own world - different, not yet wrong per se).

And then I remember that Randy being all cute and adoring and sweet - I hated that too. Sometimes all you need is someone with a little backbone not roses or chocolate.

So here I am. From one end to the other. Yet all I need is a little bit of this and a little bit of that. I don’t want to live without adoring or roses and chocolates. I also don’t want to live without smart discussions about politics or whatever. I need both. I need someone who is at the same level with me.

And by that I mean someone who is also ready to paint the love he or she is feeling on walls or write poems about it or…

Whatever.

I guess it’s not possible to have everything. If you want a romantic be prepared of him not having a sensible bone in his body. Be prepared that you have to do everything for him. And if you want someone sensible be prepared to buy your own flowers and write your own poems.

Bleh.

At least one thing is for sure. Wine. Wine never fails.

List of things I’ve done lately:

• pushed a broken car in a thunder storm
• drank wine with friends
• done HJ in a hospital
• watched through all cherrytv.com archives and learned about sex
• been actually surprised that there are few things to learn
• told my man “I love you” more than hundred times
• tweeted a lot
• sexted
• tried to sleep at work, failed
• handed in my leaving notice at work
• found out that I’ll be a married woman soon, again
• found out that there will be a proposal in near future
• re-evaluated some relationships in my life
• measured my blood pressure
• found ex-husband on Facebook
• were baffled by the last fact
• but not surprised he plays Mafia Wars
• re-arranged our bedroom, it has better feng shui now
• told my lesbian aunt that I’m bisexual

Matter of fact, there’s no difference where exactly you do your peeing. I did it in the woods, to a plastic cup, the kind I used later to drink gin and tonic from. And my friend was with me, drinking and smoking and talking about how she has a pregnancy-scare also.

Test was negative. And I partied. Hard. So hard that if I would’ve drunk texted that night it would’ve said something along the lines: “I just skinny-dipped with a bartender.”

So, anyway. Test was negative but actually I wasn’t very convinced. I have experience - they might not show an accurate result so early on. BUT I also have an experience that says that SOMETHING shows, a faint line, something. There was nothing. Negative, negative, negative.

But I still bought two more tests this Tuesday and discovered myself making plans to tell my boss that she can’t put me in night-shifts anymore and picking out baby names.

And of course, my uterus, sweet thing that she is, saw that I had bought two (!) more tests and decided: “Hell, no! Let’s show her, girls!” and unleashed the whole fury of period (and period pain) on me the next morning. No need for those tests, then.

But I also discovered that I was bloody upset about it. I think that 90% of me actually hoped that this second line will appear. That I was pregnant. And now I’m wallowing in misery because I really really wanted this to happen.

And there are very many reasons why it’s not a good time yet. We still don’t know what happens to us next spring when he graduates. I still don’t have an actual paying job (this one is, I sincerely hope, temporary), I still have loads of debts, I still smoke, we have no financial security, I still have to take meds to stay like a functioning human being and yadayadayada.

But why can’t I shake off this nagging feeling that it actually IS the right time?

And I don’t know what to do about it or how to talk about it or…

And how do I know in the future that right time has come? There sure as hell will be no flaming letters in the sky saying. “Do it! Conceive now!”

I don’t know what it is. Hormones? It sure isn’t the pain of loss, anymore, of that I’m sure. It is deep desire to have kids with him and to start The Real Life already and to be something more, something much more meaningful that I am now.

But for now - no two blue lines for me.

And dog barks with joy and cats play and sun is shining and we are just happy.

But then there are other times when I think that there is nothing more sweet and overwhelmingly cute than the way you wake up, hold me, your warm body next to me and I smell you, you kiss me and whisper: “Honey, I love you… I’ll go and make some coffee?”

These are the moments I never want to forget.

Well, yesterday I had an epiphany in the form of ginger. I had had a lot of ginger tea - because of feeling sick - and yet, although I felt sick I could not take my hands off of him. Although it was kind of expected - he was away for a day, but still. I was acting out a bit too much on my primal urges. It was weird and nice at the same time.

Herbal teas and such had never worked on me before - well, to be honest, I am taking about 8 pills per day for my illness, so I never expected it to work, I never even planned it. But it bugged me and late at night while he was asleep I googled it and found that ginger is well-known aphrodisiac. It is warming (of course), increases the blood flow to your groin (heh, I said groin) and it blocks the enzyme phosphodiesterase, which leads to certain desirable vascular changes.

I was not surprised to read that it also works on your neural system and messes with your serotonin receptor.

So. Thanks to the snow and the winter we will be having a lot of tea and together time… Preferably tea with ginger…

And, of course, the feeling that you’re being loved back - there’s nothing like it. Wonderful. See - selfish again. So my big promises about becoming less selfish person have not really come together yet.

Today, again, I had this mind-blowing sensation watching him march so proudly in front of all those uniformed men, standing so steadily next to flags, that, and I’m saying this being totally sober, I have never been so proud of anybody in my entire life.

And the other options, I mean, the ones I really don’t want to talk about (’cause they’re not the issue anymore), are not even close to that.

Okay, yeah, he’s a bit weird, and totally nerdy sometimes, but he’s my weirdo and nerd, you see.

And the little things. Ah, the little things. I love the little things. Our picnics and morning coffees and late night walks and this feeling you have when there’s someone to push your back to at nights.

Sleeping issues are another topic, since I have this weird system how to manage all my dear ones in one bed. You put one Musi, one furry cat and one fat cat, and me, into one medium-sized bed, shake and stir, and you have a working cocktail of love. Easy, right?