Ridiculously Epic…

Right and wrong are just words. What matters is what we do

It is what it is….

I’ve struggled with depression since I was 13. There’s nothing really that has happened in my life that can really account for this depression, I just get sad sometimes. And for a while, I used to hurt myself because I didn’t know how to deal with the pain. (I was stupid and young, so sue me). That stopped over 7 years ago though; I’ve trained myself to cope in different ways – writing, painting, forcing myself to go out and have fun instead of sit around and wallow, play a game, call a friend or family member to get my mind off it, etc.

I went to church for a while; a place where you’re supposed to feel safe and supported…but I never really did. I actually hurt myself more during the period of time when I attended church than when I had stopped going to church. Not that that has any bearing or significance at all. Church wasn’t what made me hurt myself more – it was the hypocrisy. Those people that were supposed to be there for you, and help you through your time of need; they all pawned it off to God. God will help you, pray to God, etc etc etc. No person wanted to recognize what I was feeling or doing, no person wanted to help. It was frustrating, and it’s part of the reason I stopped going to church.

But this post isn’t about church, or God, or people choosing to see what they want to see and believe what they want to believe (i.e. cat scratches, they were always cat scratches…seriously people!?) This post is about me.

I am really good at pretending. I pretended a lot in high school. Pretended to be happy, confident, strong, etc. I think all of the pretending actually did me some good, but it did a lot of bad too. To this day, I still have a hard time separating myself from the real and the pretend. It’s just so much easier to pretend that everything is OK and that you’re not hurting inside because you have no explanation for it – and not very many people get that. So you just pretend, you push the pain aside and live your life in a fantasy world where everything is rainbows and sunshine and lollipops.

How do you explain to someone you’re close with, or even a complete stranger, that there’s nothing they can do about it? That it “just happens,” and it’ll go away eventually? I’ve found that people don’t really know how to handle the “I don’t know why, I just am. I have no explanation, it just is what it is” explanation. People don’t really believe you; they need to find a cause. Sometimes there just isn’t.

So sometimes I get sad. For absolutely no reason. And as of late, I’ve gotten this feeling. It starts in the pit of my stomach, and shoots up through my chest. If you’re familiar with Harry Potter, it’s what I imagine being attacked my a Dementor feels like….like all of the happiness has been sucked from the world. It is crippling sometimes, and it always brings tears to my eyes. Sometimes I only get one, other times there’s 4 or more in a row and I have to do everything in my power from breaking down and sobbing right then and there. And there’s no specific trigger. Sometimes it just happens; even if I’m in a good place at that point in time – like if I’m hanging out with Jess or Ernest. And it’s really inconvenient because there’s no reason for that to happen so it’s kind of hard to explain “Oh no, don’t worry. This just happens sometimes. It’ll go away….eventually.”

I have never been on anti-depressants or any other kind of medication, because I don’t need them. If the day comes that I need them, I will get them. But until then, I get by, and I survive. So bear with me, and try to understand that sometimes there is no rhyme or reason. Try to be patient, understanding, and caring. Stand by me, and don’t give up.

Be there for me.


Surrealism a la Living

For 3 of the past 4 years I have lived with not only an awesome person, but one of my best friends. We started living together our senior year of college without really knowing each other. I joined a sorority and we were acquaintances. We went to dinner one night as a group and ordered the same exact thing, and from then on it was a running joke that we were the same person because our first name is Jessica and we ordered the same meal. We found out other things we had in common, and then it was time to pick roommates. Since we were the same person I asked her if she wanted to room together. So we lived together our Senior year of college, then she moved to Wyoming for a year for an internship, and she was back in Ohio for a few months before I talked her into moving to Cleveland and into an apartment with me. That was almost 2 years ago.

I’m sure that there are days that she just wants to push me off the balcony, or maybe just punch me in the face…but I have absolutely loved living with her. In college, and in our “adult” life.

A couple months ago Ernest and I mentioned in passing that my lease is up in May and that he graduates in May and that is incredibly convenient. Then we mentioned that it was so convenient in terms of living, maybe we should live together? Then it turned into “Why the hell not?” and started looking at apartments online.  Now it’s forreals…we have an appointment to look at a place on Saturday.

I’m really sad about not living with Jess. It’s kind of surreal; not living with Jess. She’s probably the best roommate anyone could ever ask for. Not only does she love to clean and cook, but she’s my best friend. It’s tons of fun to hang out, talk, watch movies, go shopping, cook, whatever… I know that Ernest and I were serious about moving together – but it seemed so far off that I didn’t think about the fact that I won’t be living with Jess, and now that Ernest and I are actually going to look at places it’s becoming more real – in a good way. I am really excited about taking this step with Ernest. It’s kind of a big deal, and it’s, well, awesome. Our relationship is pretty ridiculously awesome, I don’t think I’ve ever been happier. And I know that living with Ernest is going to be just as awesome, maybe even more, as living with Jess.

But I will miss her.

(No offense Ernest.)

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