As crushing as my anxiety and depression became last summer, it still felt like something that happened to other people on a regular basis. I clearly needed help, but it never felt like something that marked me. But now I feel like I’m really crazy.
I spent my time at the therapist Wednesday talking about how I couldn’t stop my brain from thinking about Boo. What did it mean when he said this? Should I say that? Has he texted me? Should I text him? When we talk about sex, that means he wants to have sex with me, right? Where is he in this relationship? How awesome was it when we hung out and ran and had breakfast Saturday? Why does he open up to me and then push me away? My brain constantly whirring and imagining and worrying and celebrating and mourning, even when I desperately just wanted to rest my mind and watch “Andy Griffith” and eat Pop Tarts.
I thought everybody was like this at the start of a relationship. I just wanted my therapist to help talk me through some of the anxiety. Instead she looked at me like she was very concerned, asked me if I was still cutting and told me as soon as I left there I needed to call my psychiatrist and make an appointment as soon as I could to talk about more medication. “Tell him exactly what you told me,” she said. Apparently everybody ISN’T like this. Apparently I’m obsessive.
I started looking back through my life and I have obsessed for long periods of time about:
- My high school church youth director
- The first guy I slept with AFTER we slept together
- A guy who taught some training classes I took, who I wound up propositioning
- Star Trek
- Ron Dittemore/The Columbia Space Shuttle Disaster
- David Tennant/Dr. Who
Obsession has clearly been my pattern. I realized it. And then I felt irreparably insane.
Sure. Everybody gets depressed. But now I’m just bat shit crazy. Mentally ill. Off my fucking rocker. How can I ever live my life or have a relationship with a man if I’m not normal, if my brain doesn’t work right? This feels like being broken, wrong, damaged, worthless, irredeemable. I feel like I should quit trying. I can’t get this right.
And when I talked to Boo last night, it turns out he’s not my boo. Mixed signals. Misunderstandings. Wishful thinking. False expectations. Stupid girl. Stupid, stupid girl. Stupid, stupid broken girl.