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:

  • Jesus
  • 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.

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2 responses to “Obsession”

  1. CherylCrT says :

    I thought of you when I read your SIL’s cousin’s blog today – Suzanne Sinyard Chambers – http://www.livingletters4.blogspot.com

    “I have several friends going through tremendously difficult valleys right now. A couple of their situations would be classified as “impossible” by most everybody. Nobody at all would blame them for resigning themselves to the situation and just adjusting their lives to “reality”. In fact, they have all been “counseled” to do just that.”

    Don’t give up or in – you have a lot of cheerleaders rooting for you every day.

  2. Thomas H. Jones says :

    You;re not too young to remember vinyl records. I’d put a favorite on, and the needle might get stuck in a groove because of a small scratch or minor flaw in the pressing. Very upsetting . . . singing along when suddenly the needle gets stuck in one grove. That meant I had to get up and delicately try to place the needle past that point, frequently I put it too far ahead and missed some part I liked. Sometimes, I’d get so frustrated with the process that I might just give the player a bump and of course this method might only result in another scratch.

    Unfortunately my analogy breaks down at this point because I could always replace the record, but one can’t really replace one’s brain. The good part is that a brain is not vinyl, and you can use it to make a new recording rather than dwell on the old flawed one.

    This doesn’t really help, does it? It’s just another perspective. But that’s is the point. One doesn’t have to view things from the same perspective, especially when it’s not a particularly helpful perspective. There isn’t any *one* right way to view reality. Still, it’s admittedly hard to place that needle in the exact place one wants it to be. Surrender to the imprecision and move along.

    The “cutting” is very disturbing to hear about. I had thought you were pretty adept at cutting yourself up pyschically. So that’s very worrisome to hear.

    I found the list of those you obsessed over to be interesting. A lot of idealization here, even the After the fact ones (That’s not really unusual, is it?) Not to mention some suggestion of being mysteriously transported to other realms. This is hardly crazy. Pretty common. Hero stuff and places in the sun.
    Who doesn’t engage in such thought? What bothers me is that you seem to be determined to devalue who you are and your own experience of your own life.

    “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?” Who’s normal? And, I suspect, that, whatever it is, it is not what you’re obsessing over. If you’re not delusional, your brain is working in a functional way. Some things are simply not subject to measurement. Like the value of a life. Too much this/that, too many polarities.
    These are mental traps. For example, is it correct to think of expectations as being either true or false? No one I know is totally control of her life, so what would make one suppose that the future will unfold precisely according to expectations? I’m afraid I’m not being helpful. Everything seems to beg the question. But I do recognize when people seem to be describing life as some sort of template into which they either fit or don’t fit. And I hope you find your way through. You seem to be a really nice person, even if you don’t measure up to some set of expectations that you or others have created for you.

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