Confusion

The true question is what happens after you break up with someone and then meet someone a few weeks later? You are not really over the first person, but the second person is just too good to pass up. Makes me wonder.....

Why I Love my Zoloft....

Today I had an interview for a position at an agency. I will probably not get the position I initially applied for, but I feel good in the fact that I might get a position nonetheless. And if I never hear from the ARC again? I will shrug my shoulders and keep looking for jobs. And this is why I love my Zoloft.

The SSRI ability of this drug makes sure that all the little serotonin neurotransmitters stay in the synapse to be absorbed by the next nerve, instead of being sucked back up into the nerve that released them. This means that more of the "feel happy" transmitter is passed on. But the drug does not make me happy. I have experienced bouts of depression while taking Zoloft. However, the depression cleared up and was brought on by an event (like my new chronic illness). I have finally come to terms with the fact that, with the help of therapy, medication made my continuous, no reason, no cause depression is disappear into the night. I love my Zoloft because it makes it possible for me to cope better with reality. With the help of the Zoloft, I am able to look at a situation and deal with it proactively and not fall into the abyss of despair. I am able to rebound from life's bad shots, much like I was able to rebound the basketball. Yeah, getting elbowed in the face by a girl that was fatter and taller than me hurt, but I'm the one that got the ball. Same with life, it hurts but I have the ball.

So this relates how to my current battle on life? Well I am jobless at this current moment, which will hopefully be rectified soon. I have far less money that I would hope. Again it seems my plans of going to grad school will need to be put off for another year. I suffer from Ulcerative Colitis. Last but not least, I believe I have lost my relationship. In the light of all this, I do not feel like the world is ending or that I must take ending the world into my own hands. Instead I feel hopeful that it will get better. I have only let myself mope one day. The rest I try to keep laughing and doing things I love. And this is why I love my Zoloft. It makes living easier....

High Heels and Pearls in the Kitchen

When does enjoying cooking and cleaning become dangerous to a woman's sense of feminism? I have yet to reach this line, but my high school friends were quite shocked when they learned that I cooked, and enjoyed it. All through high school I proclaimed my great dissatisfaction with the culinary arts. Mostly because I was not good at it, and because I felt that if I learned to cook I would be forever bound in a kitchen under the rule of a man. This is totally unacceptable. However, as time went on, I came to realize I needed to be able to cook for my own survival, and then cooking for others can into play. Now I enjoy cooking, baking, and setting a beautiful table. Does this make me domestic? Yes, in a way. Does it make me housewife material? No, not at all. Being able to cook and clean well and enjoy the satisfaction of completing such tasks well appeals to the drive and motivation to do everything well. In my case I would be the one who would work hard at a job and then come home to cook and clean well. Enjoying the cooking and cleaning does not decrease my desire to return to schooling or increase an inclination to get married and procreate. Actually it does quite the opposite. Just a thought as I sit in my SO's apartment cleaning.....

Having sex is about the performance, not the actual act. I have been performing for men in variety of ways, whether it is saying the right words, moaning at the appropriate times, or just assuming the position. However, some men like to throw you a curve ball and say things like "Sex to me is meaningful." I cringe a little. Sex, in my mind, is not meaningful, but another opportunity for me to express my control of the situation through the use of my body. I wonder, how is sex supposed to mean something? I like being loud for the sake of being loud, so that maybe others will hear. Having my hair pulled is just another affirmation that I am doing a good job. If sex has meaning, I can't find it. Nor do I think I want to.

When you accomplish all that is on your to do list....

I do not like the idea of monogamy. I would go as far to say as it scares me a little. When you, as an independent person, commit to see only one other independent person, you surrender some of your freedom: your reproductive and sexual freedom. Now for some this is quite an easy task. And yes, sometimes, I have fallen in the trap of just wanting to be wanted. But when faced with the horns of monogamy, I realized I just wanted to be important and know where I stand. Limiting my life because of someone else's insecurities troubles me. I have learned to live with the fact that there will always be a prettier, thinner (or more round), more pleasing female out there than I. It is the way of the world. Committing to a relationship, tying myself to one person makes me offer up some of my autonomy on a platter, much like John the Baptist head. I am not so cool with that. It was explained to me that living in a monogamous relationship is much like living in a much deeper, unified, friendship. I feel some of my friendships are quite deep and unified; I now know that telepathy is possible. I do not have a problem with saying "at this point in time, I will do my best not to actively seek other people to have sex with, but if it happens it happens." I am 21. I believe such a statement makes logical sense. I have so much more in my life that I have to be committed to. There lies the problem. I come first, I always will come first, and monogamy doesn't like that.

Since when did I become a almost Normal, Non-Maladjusted, Happy Adult?

Okay. Maybe saying I am normal is far fetched. That would be like saying Anakin Skywalker was not emo, just slightly depressed. But I have been discovering that as the days go by, I am not nearly as troubled as I once was, and now I wonder, why the FUCK was I troubled to begin with? Being the Psych major that I am, I read about a lot of maladjusted people. I meet these maladjusted people. I read about how maladjustment happens and who is more prone to be maladjusted. I never really ever fit in with these people. I love my parents and I mean the world to them. I was never physically abused and had a happy childhood. It makes me wonder if my terrible years of middle school and the first two years of high school and a few bad relationships with members of the opposite sex are really enough to fuck a person over? IS THAT REALLY ENOUGH??? Based on everything I read, yes. Yes, friends who treat you like shit, call you a whore and hate you because you are thin are enough to permanently scar how you feel about interacting socially. And yeah, making some bad decisions about who can stick their dick GOD knows where can also screw you up if you let it. I guess I feel bad for putting all those people who love and support me through tons of shit that they really did not need to go through, because now I feel as though I was just being ridiculous. But then again a part of me knows that something was severely wrong. My new and current hypothesis is that I can get over these hurdles more efficiently now. I am hoping that I can get back to the over-achieving, slightly neurotic woman that I am and be okay with that. No one is perfect (though I try) and my Psych books always say all people are different. So I might as well take their word on it; I am different, I have different triggers, and my life is no more fucked up than any other practically normal person. How bout them Pears.