I took my first dose of Cymbalta yesterday. The major concern was that I would be allergic to it or have an adverse reaction. I don't respond to all medications like I'm "supposed to." Intravenous Valium for instance makes me psychotic and paranoid. Percocet causes me to shake uncontrollably and sweat bullets. Codeine has caused hallucinations. It's super fun trying out a new medication. 

So here I am, almost 24 hours after taking my first dose, still hating that I am back on anti-depressant medication, but wondering if I will better be able to function through the life changes that are occurring beyond my control. My heart is still broken in a million pieces and as much as I try to reason myself into believing that I will be okay, I don't feel like I will ever be okay. I want to be a good mother to the Wildflower Child. I want to have someone to love and be loved by. I want to be able to stand on my own two feet and weather the slings and arrows of this mortal coil. I want to be able to "win" NaNoWriMo'16. I want to be free of the impulses and doubts that keep me from actively seeking out the things that make me happy. I want the later half of my life to be full and expansive. I do not want to be trapped by "I can't." 

​Later today, I'll take the second dose. 

I'm working pretty hard at normalizing mental health care publicly while I go through my local system. And today I went to my Nurse Practitioner, who I have a pretty good relationship with, because my interim therapist suggested I try medication. Again.

I haven't been medicated for depression and anxiety in about a decade. I've been on Zoloft, Wellbutrin, Effexor, and Ativan. None have treated me particularly well. So today we went a different route and some time this weekend I will be taking my first dose of Cymbalta. I have the three things it is good for; depression, anxiety and pain. Chronic pain. 

I hate this. I hate this with a fiery passion that has insufficient words. I have been proud of my medication free existence. But now, I'm spiraling. I'm trying to "do the work" and get the help I need. But the part of me that is wedded to my issues is screaming at me that I shouldn't have to do this to make the people around me comfortable. That part is not good, and has to be shouted down regularly. But still, the whisper in my heart says I'd be fine if the people around me didn't fucking suck. 

So part of this whole thing; getting therapy and going on meds, is the most loaded question of all.... "Do you ever have suicidal thoughts?" When my NP asked me this today I actually dropped into head down, elbows on knees position and sighed. She actually laughed and said, "I bet you wished I didn't ask that." 

You have no idea. 

This is such an issue for me, because the answer is "yes." 

I've been dreaming of Death for as long as I can remember. I think about how, and where, and when. I used to do the math and try to figure out when the least damaging time in my daughter's development it would be to kill myself. In college I used to walk home on train tracks and question what I would do if the train came. In high school I horded random medications. In elementary school I would wrap wire around batteries and burn myself and think about putting them in light sockets. Before that, I'd just wish I would die in my sleep. 

Death has been dancing in the corner of my eye for as long as I can remember, literally. And yet I never invite her to waltz. Only twice have I done anything that would bring her close. I cut myself in college so significantly that I found myself bleeding in class the next day and didn't know if it would stop. And before my daughter was conceived, not knowing where my husband was or when he would get home, I mixed Ativan and beer and wrote a note and passed out. When I woke up, I threw out the note and went to bed. Neither were real invitations. And honestly, I don't want to die. The problem is, I rarely want to live, for me. The NP asked me today if I'd ever been diagnosed with "Co-Dependency." Not officially, but I sure as fuck have abandonment issues. 

I'm treating the latest failure of a relationship as a sort of wake-up call, but I still want someone to love me, so desperately it feels like an entity screaming in my ear. I worry I'll never been enough for anyone and no one will ever love me. And I need to work on that. In the mean time, I'll watch Death dancing and tell her to wait her turn with me. Hopefully not for a very long time. 

If you are dancing with Death, or need help, please don't hesitate to get help. The suicide hotline is available 24 hours a day, 1-800-273-8255. There are people out there who care. I am one. 

I am in a situation currently that is beyond painful and I don't know what to do. I am very lucky that I have gotten into therapy and have appointments scheduled, and the therapists are supportive and understanding. However, as I've mentioned previously, I have a lot of issues in my life that have to be addressed. The one causing the most anguish right now, is my relationship status. 

I wish I was a person who didn't feel deeply. I really do. I would think, if I looked at my history on paper, that I wouldn't. That I would be able to walk away from anyone that caused me pain without a backward glance, but I cannot. I have met a few people in my life in which the connection was virtually instantaneous. And it was reciprocal, at least in the short term. I do not change myself drastically for the people in my life. As a human being I am as much a chameleon as anyone, there are different facets of my personality that have to be on display in different situations; professional, personal, maternal.... For the most part however, I try to be as true to myself, or my idea of myself, as possible. I don't hide that I am a geek, though if I haven't read your favorite comic, I won't lie and say I did. I love the things I love, don't like the things I don't like, and will let you know. And for the most part, the people I come across appear to appreciate my honesty and openness. 

I have met two people in the last several years that I was immediately drawn to. The commonalities were amazing, and the differences were enough to keep conversation and interest going. One of them has become my best friend and the person I can send messages to in the middle of the night or talk to online for hours and will hopefully always be there, as I will always be there. The other, I've been dating since this summer. Or had been. 

Communication has stopped as of the middle of last week. I know that on their end the world looks bleak and they need "space" to figure out what is going on in their own head, and I want very much to respect that situation. I want to be able to say "I understand" without tasting the vomit those words bring to my throat. I want to say so many things, but I am not being heard. I have sent a handful of messages over the last several days with no response and I feel as though I am shouting into the abyss "please hear me! Please accept my love!" 

Of course I cannot force anyone to love me. I can do nothing. In this situation, love is not enough, and the relationship is not a two-way street. I am stuck in limbo and I am broken. 

There is so much I want to say. Things I feel deeply that I want the other person to feel from me. And things I would regret immediately upon utterance. 

I want to say: 

I hate you. But that is a total lie, because I don't hate you at all.
You are being an asshole. Which possibly true, isn't your intention, and would be cruel.
This is abusive. Again, not the intent, so would be cruel and demeaning to say. 
I need you. Can't say that, don't want to put more on your plate than you already have. 
I want you. I've said this, it has not been responded to, saying it again would be begging. 
I love you. This is true, and has been said over and over. But if it can't be accepted, what is the point?
Don't leave me. Again, I cannot force anyone to do what I want, if they don't want it as well. 
Please don't leave me. Begging gets one nowhere. 
I will do anything. I can't promise that, no one can. I would do a lot, I would help if you let me, but there are things out of my control that make this a lie. 
Just, fucking, listen to me! Not okay Kir. Not okay. 

I wish I had answers. All I have is silence. I want so much for things to go my way for once, as there is a long history of settling for what other people want instead of having my chance. For once I've tried standing up and fighting for something that matters me to me, and all that came of it, was nothing. I'm holding on by my fingertips trying to "stay positive" as the people around me suggest, "Don't give up." What can I do but succumb and wait and dread and hope. Prepare for the worst. 

A quote from "Carnivale," - "Pray to God, but row for shore." 

I'm rowing, but I don't have a compass and I don't have anyone to take the oars when I am exhausted. All I can do is stare in to the dark and try to find a light. 

And if, by chance, any of my messages are received, I hope that my love is the clearest thing heard. 

So you know that Doctor Who themed tattoo I got for my 41st birthday? This one in case you forgot: 

The symbols behind the Tardis and sonic screwdrivers are "Gallifreyan" for my daughter and my names. But the screwdrivers themselves are really about relationship goals. 

One of the most romantic stories on television is the love affair/marriage of the Doctor and River Song. And I chose the 12th Doctor and River's sonic screwdrivers because their love surpasses time and space. 

But it also tragic. They are meeting in the wrong times. They are two comets crossing in the cosmos. And I'm a doomed romantic. 

There is never a good time to start anything. There is just a time. I am trying very hard to maintain equilibrium during a turbulent time that involves not only the most epically fucked Presidential election in generations, but the imminent move of my parents and sole support system to Florida from the Mid-Atlantic, the possibility of going from part-time to full-time employment, and the pause button being pressed on a relationship that feels more real and potential to me than any I've had. 

I love easily, but I love deep and hard and with every fiber. And like River, I don't expect my love to be returned. But oh how I hope. I'd pray if I was religious, but I don't think Odin gives a shit. 

I'm an adult trapped in an adolescent loop with a Wildflower Daughter and a hot-mess dog and I'm in love. And I'm scared. And I have to make decisions that I do not want to make. And ultimately, I make them alone. 

All I can hope is that like River and the Doctor, the stars align and things fall into place, and I find my way. And maybe, if I'm lucky, I'll turn and hear, "Hello Sweetie."