I'm in a towel, dripping wet

trying to get everything ready for Florida. I figured this "dry off from shower" period was a good time to post a quick blog.

Emmett and I are going until Tuesday. Mike is meeting us there Friday. Additionally, I have a TON of work to do and keep extending my deadlines.

Here's an overview of what's happening:

House: Yesterday we looked at houses. One of them was a group home. We got to the second floor of 1/2 of the building and we left. The people were still in there and as I told our realtor, I think they should stay there. I don't want to buy their home. Also, we are probably not going to buy the house that was relisted. We went again yesterday and it seems to need too much work. Plus, neither of us feel really excited about it for some reason. That alone is a key.

Family: They are all coming back from Greece tomorrow. Their plane arrives 10 minutes after mine takes off.

Thoughts: Today I was talking to someone about this, and I think it's true so I'll share it. I really think a serious flaw in psychology is the notion that people can change and make themselves better. I don't think people actually "change" that often. I think therapy and introspection can help a person to "live with" their issues and develop mechanisms so that they don't negatively affect those around them. Every now and then you can change yourself, but it is very very difficult. More often than not, it seems people just learn to deal with their problems and live around their sensitivity.

Dead Birds

In less profound news, I keep meaning to write that I am very afraid of hitting animals while driving. It's a paranoia and, at night, I drive as slowly as is legally possible to ensure I don't hit anything. During the day, I am still uncomfortable with birds that fly over the road. This strange "hitting bird fear" started happening when I was pregnant and never stopped.

When driving, I find myself swerving to avoid them. At times, I feel they're playing daredevil games with "who can swoop closest to the car".

What usually happens is that a visual trick occurs. When I stop watching the road and focus on a (comparatively slow) bird, my depth perception goes awry and I think I'm going to hit the bird becuase I"m going so fast, even though it's not close enough.

Over the past 6 months, I've become unusually cautious.

A few months ago, I hit a bird.

Medication

is not an option for me. But I believe that most psychiatrists reading this blog would wholly support (if not encourage) some kind of anti-depressant to assist my depression.

This weekend, I have been thinking about medication and talking about medication with everyone about it. Here are some things I've decided:

If you're smart, you need medication. I believe that only the least intelligent people are dull enough not to be depressed, feel isolated, feel hurt and question the banality of this existence. If you are deep and you acknowledge this reality, you need medication according to the way things work now. Jessica and I believe that there must be a correlation between intelligence and antidepressants. And research has shown that depression is virtually nonexistent in retarded people.

Having said that

I think many antidepressants are administered for general depression, are done in haste and without warrant. Life IS hard, and part of living is the struggle of it. I believe sadness, pain, bitterness, isolation, confusion -- all these emotions we seek to gloss over with medication, are real, valid and important feelings. And, they lead us to a need for God.

I'm not saying medication isn't necessary. For many people, it is. I'm writing about the people like me out there. Functioning people that although deal with depression at times, are not incapacitated by it. These emotions contribute to my happiness as well as my understanding. And most importantly, in the borrows of my deepest sadness, I find God to be very real.

Lastly, medication directly defies the concept of psychology. Psychology, is an effort to connect a person with what he or she is feeling to deal head on with the "reality" of a persons life. Medication seems to cover it.

I'm sinking

very, very deeply into sadness.

I wonder if I'm depressed or just emotionally unstable. I feel insecure around everyone. I am very, very very sad. I feel totally alone in a huge disconnect. These ups and downs are miserable. I want to be alone. I wil be back on when I'm happier.

Comments Here

As I told Jenn

I'm like the Princess and the Pea, only for the past week, I have not had my layers of protection up. I'm way, WAY overly sensitive.

It's unbelievable. I have the greatest friends. All of you are like making me feel like you like me, my blog, I should not stop writing etc. And right now, because of all the warm feedback, I'm actually going through something. Should I keep writing but risk this happening again? Can I handle putting my feelings up here and not having one on one feedback like in a conversation? I don't really know. I am a guarded person, despite how open I seem. This is like my diary.

What I wrote to Jessica yesterday was that I'm worried that I"m too vulernable for my own blog. Here's what I wrote to her (sorry for last line male readers):

I’m going to sit on this for a few days. It is less about people posting and coming to realize I may be very vulernable right now. I’m afraid of letting people in too deeply. Even though my posts haven’t sounded more introspective than the other ones, they are for me...I’m just wondering if it may be that I cannot handle having other people read them.

I also have my period and am very, very depressed in the shadow of Audrey’s visit. I very much miss living near my sister — on either coast.

Most people that are normal and not insecure would never care about "comments" and would never assume that people don't like them or are judging them if there are none. Most people would give the benefit of the doubt to their friends.

And as I'm writing this post all of the sudden I feel like, if I keep posting and don't plunge into secrecy, it looks (and feels) like my previous post was "for attention" and "to get more comments". (oh how pathetic I feel even writing this). And then I go to, well do I allow comments on this post? If I do, then everyone will feel the need to "comment" because of my last post. If I don't, then no one can "atone" since they feel this is all about them (which it's really more about if I can handle this or not).

I just want to be a normal person!

And the house is back up for sale.

The problem with blogging

is the comments.

I can't stand it. I realize I'm starting to connect people's feelings towards me based on if anyone comments on what I've written. I never really felt this way until now. I'm not sure why.

All this has led me to realize that I'm going to make my blog secret again. I care far too much what other people think.

Good bye everyone. Sorry I'm not more secure.

New York

is, for me, a place where I will forever wish I lived.
Being there makes me feel alive.

Audrey and I were there today and for some reason, I find
New Yorkers to be friendly and easy going. I feel like people
in Philly are way tougher.

But I have realized the most important thing to me and I
continue to feel resolve about my present position. I am
in touch with the fact that I am afraid of putting down roots.
I am aware of the fact that I have some weird issue with
commitment. And I'm ready to try to tackle this over achievement
thing once and for all.

At this point, I want to worry less about my future, regret less my past
and focus on now.

It seems almost impossible for me.

Third Runner Up

Since the time I was a child, I always found myself, during Miss America and Miss Universe pagents, routing for what turned out to the be the third runner up. Literally, I think it happened 90 percent of the ones I watched, as far back as I can remember.

I love watching those shows even today, but I don't even know when they're on anymore. But somehow, this past year, I did catch the Swan beauty pagent. That show is about doing plastic surgery, liposuction, extreme working out etc. to make unattractive women pretty. And they can't see their faces for 6 months.

The show was sort of stupid and a waste, becuase none of them were hideous, really. And of course, the prettiest one came in third.

I'm going to relax

and take it easy.

I have to be a little more fatalistic.
I have to be a little more mature.

I just couldn't wait to get out of here.
I hate living in the country.
I don't like it out here in anyway.

That house represented freedom to me.

That's why I was so upset.
But I'm OK now.
Thanks for all your concern.
I am sorry to have come on so strong with the new blog
but today it's acting as therapy.

I HATE MY FUCKING LIFE!

WITHIN MOMENTS OF POSTING THE LAST ENTRIES, I FOUND OUT THAT THE HOUSE IS UNDER CONTRACT!
THIS HOUSE, THAT I BECAME SO COMFORTABLE IN...THAT I SAW MYSELF IN...THAT I WAS PLANNING FOR.

I HATE THIS I HATE THIS I HATE THIS.

I CANNOT BELIEVE THIS IS MY FUCKING LIFE!
I AM SO ANGRY, DEPRESSED, UPSET AND FURIOUSLY TEARFUL. THANK GOD EMMETT IS ASLEEP.

We found a house (******)

that we LOVE.

It is enormous.
It is beautiful.
It is homey.
And it's in West Philly.

I will post a picture as soon as I can. It has 6 bedrooms, a gigantic attic, basement, 4 bathrooms, 2 yards and a fireplace.

The wood is beautiful.
I can't believe I'm excited about West Philly.

Please tell me anything you know about it....Crime rates, rent potentials, school districts etc. It is between 48th and 49th on Warrington.

(Added *****)

I didn't like the way that post ended, and I feel like I want to make the beginning of this blog good. In some ways, I'm bummed that I'm not a little more introspective right now becuase the tone of this entry is SO different than the hoplessly depressed tone of my old blog. And I may end up posting those entries. I just need time to decide if I can reveal that much. If anyone comments, please use code info. I don't want this blog to be searchable. I'm going to start using code names too.

I couldn't sleep last night.
I feel so nervous. I don't know what we're doing. I love the house but the school district SUCKS. I wish this were easier. I wish we were rich people. Then, I guess, we would just buy something in a perfect neighborhood and send our kid to private school.

But ew.

The post below was part of my secret blog

and actually, there were three other entries that I didn't include. I decided they were too vile, too filled with hatred and self loathing. It was during a time that I was in post pardom depressions. Lists like "Reasons I hate my life the most" filled that blog, and it is unfit.