Getting to know you, er, me.

So I lied about posting three times yesterday. It turns out working at the library is quite busy. There's really no down time. And I really wanted to write about this specific thing but I couldn't get my brain to cooperate. So you'll get the half-baked version later in this post. I am happy to report that I got an oil change today. It was a leeetle bit overdue but it's done. And I bought winter boots. There's this vintage store that Boyfriend and I went to and I fell in love with a pair of pink cowboy boots. No, those weren't the winter boots. I really want them, though. Maybe it'll be my "losing all this weight and not having ice cream for months without cheating" present.

The thing that I've wanted to write about for a long time, well, since moving here I suppose, is why I did certain things before leaving Kalamazoo. What I mean by that is why I stopped talking to some people and how that has effected me, blah, blah, blah. Trust me, this is more for my closure than anyone else's. I figure if I finally write about it here, I'll stop thinking about it. Or for those who don't know, maybe it will make you understand a little better. Or I just haven't made any super personal posts. Make up your own reasons.

I'm not really going to go into what started my depression earlier this year, it was a number of things, but this isn't about what, it's about what happened after. It could be said that I have had bad experiences picking friends and groups of friends. People that aren't that supportive or who always see me as an outsider or people who don't really let me be myself or start to leave when I change out of their ideal Lauren. Whatever that is. So let's just say that I was depressed. Really depressed. The worst since high school. And I've always been someone to put people's happiness before mine. I guess this was the breaking point. I eventually started talking to Boyfriend about it and he was supremely supportive and still is. This is how I know we are awesome together. That, and we're super adorable. It's a fact. Anyway, when I tried to talk to one of my closest friends, she didn't believe me. So I shut down. I felt that I couldn't say anything to her because it didn't matter. I tried to talk to her multiple times about things but it never worked. Part of it was that I could have probably found better ways to say what I wanted to say, but another part of it was her changing attitude, I believe. She'd been getting more negative about things and I began to feel left out of my group of friends. I know, I can have this feeling a lot. But when there are people that are blatantly telling you "oh, well, we went to this movie but it was at night and we know you work in the morning so we just didn't bother calling you", it kind of hurts.

What I did next was to do the only thing I thought could save me. I started seeing a counselor to sort through all my thoughts. I had seen a counselor in high school and been put on anti-depressants then so I knew how counseling could help me. The psychiatrist also prescribed Prozac for me. He said that when someone is diagnosed as clinically depressed, it's because there's a chemical imbalance that needs to be corrected. This person can have depression effect them in different ways. My way happens to be cyclical. I can go for months without feeling any sadness or anymore than a tiny bit blue, but then there can be one month where I'm crying at everything and get paranoid. He said that it was my choice to take the Prozac or not to take it. I chose to take it. Because of how it effected me before, and because I was afraid of what might happen if I didn't take it.

I made the decision to tell this close friend what I was going through because I missed her and it was really hard for me to keep things from her. I knew she thought counseling was stupid and that medication was unnecessary. But I thought that because we were really close, it wouldn't matter. That she'd be supportive and understand why I needed to do this. That didn't happen at all. I told her and I felt attacked. She didn't want to understand why I did this and why I chose this. She just thought it was the wrong decision. This broke my heart. Completely. I wanted to change her mind and I even thought that maybe she was right, maybe I reacted out of desperation and didn't really need the counselor or medication. Then I tried to get up the next morning. It was so hard to get out of bed and go to the same job every day where I felt small. It was so difficult to want to get up and take a shower. I knew that I made the right decision for me. And I knew that there were people who supported me and wanted me to be happy, even if it meant seeing a counselor and taking meds. If it stopped me from hurting myself, that's what they wanted.

I stopped talking to her, almost completely. I stopped talking to other people, too. People that were from that same group of friends. I couldn't stand the paranoia of thinking what they must be thinking of me. And I couldn't stand how much my heart hurt that these close friends didn't care at all. It certainly helped that I knew I was going to be moving and I used that as an excuse for a new beginning. I still miss those friends a lot but I can't be around people who don't support me. I can't be the person that supports all of these people and gets nothing in return. That's not who I am. I don't think that was ever who I was. I tried that suit on and it didn't fit comfortably. I need to look out for myself and I think that's okay. I have a wonderful boyfriend and great friends who do support me. I realized who my true friends are finally.

I'm happy to be living on this side of the state and away from all of those bad feelings. Yes, I do feel bad sometimes and I feel like maybe I fucked up, but it doesn't matter. I started to listen to what I want and making my own decisions. I still take the Prozac because I feel that it really helps me sort through my bad feelings I have sometimes. But it helps. And I'm thankful that I found a solution.