Thursday, February 14, 2019

Another Valentine's Day

I haven't updated this blog for a while because nothing has changed.  At least, I haven't been able to make anything change.  I feel like I'm slogging through the same mud as always. 

But there is something that has changed.  I'm not madly in love with somebody who doesn't love me back.  Instead, I'm just here.  I don' t feel that deep, painful unrequited love that I normally feel.  I'm not burning because I madly want to be with somebody who either A) Doesn't realize it, B) Knows it but doesn't care or C) Ted Who? 

And honestly, even if I did feel something for another woman, I wouldn't say anything to her just because I know there's nothing I could do about it.  I'm too broke to take her out, too anxious to go out with her, and too depressed to be much fun.  So it's better that I just keep my mouth shut and say nothing about how badly I want to be with them. 

It used to be on Valentine's Day, I felt like everybody was in an exclusive club, and I wasn't invited to be a member.  But now, I don't even want to be around those people, and their little club is all bullshit anyways. 

One thing I've noticed is a lot of women I know are jaded about Valentine's Day.  They've been treated like crap for far too long by a whole list of men.  They think Valentine's Day is bullshit, too, but because they've been disappointed so many times. 

Me? 

Often I've wished I could be there for them.  I wished I could be the one who treated them right and was there for them.  But I've come to realize that I'm way too codependent for that kind of thing.  I'm high-maintenance and I need constant re-assuring that I'm somebody special to them.  In the absence of communication, my mind fills in the blanks with all kinds of thoughts about them leaving me, or talking to some other guy they prefer over me, and how in the silence they are planning to leave me. 

I've done this with friendships, too.  Ruined them in the process just like any other relationship.  And since I've got severe abandonment issues, I freak out, and totally lose my shit.  What's left in the end is me despondent and heartbroken with the knowledge that once again I destroyed something I badly needed and hurt somebody I cared for deeply.

This is why, even when I do find myself attracted to someone, I keep my mouth shut.  I have come to realize women I care about are better off without me because all I'll do is implode and self-destruct, hurting them in the process. 

I'm sure I could say, at the beginning of things, "look, I'm codependent and high-maintenance so you'll need to constantly reassure me that you're not planning to leave me and you're not cheating on me."  But why ruin the surprise? 

Hollywood says guys like me with mental illness are sweet and cute and the partner is supposed to ignore all of the dysfunction so they can fall in love with me.  After all, suicidal depression in the middle of the night is just adorable, right? 

I still think of Anthony Bourdain often and what goes through my mind is how he had everything I could ever want yet he wasn't happy.  So what chance does somebody like me have?  This is another reason why I don't want to get too close to a woman right now.  I'll just drag them down and if I don't make it, it's a cruel thing to do to them.  I've been on the other side of suicide before and I know what happens.  I can't imagine doing that to somebody who cares about me like that. 

Unless, of course, I put that in the disclosures up front as well.  "Oh, and I'm prone to bouts of dark depression and I'm suicidal sometimes so understand now you can't save me.  So, if I don't make it, understand now it's not your fault, okay?" 

I'm fairly certain Hollywood could make that charming, too.  Hollywood does wonders for making somebody like me seem worth the pain and suffering one would experience when being close to me. 

In other news, I've been writing and submitting short stories again.  It feels good but something is missing in what I submitted.  It's like the stories were missing something and seemed monotone.  Because I no longer have my beta readers after chasing them away, I'm left to my own devices, which is to say the echo chamber my head has turned into. 

But now that I'm off my meds, I feel like my writing has improved once again, and I'm more like my old self.  Hollywood says that's charming, too.  People like me get their cheeks pinched and a hug before we're left behind.  In a romantic comedy, we're the guys who die in the third act, and the MC realizes something about life, and goes back to their love interest to proclaim their feelings. 

Cue the music and oh shit, I have something in my eye.