Dear Anonymous,

Yes, all I do is complain here. The blog has become my emotional garbage can. Which is a shame. I used to tend this blog very tenderly and with much love. I used to do a lot of things. But I'm not looking for sympathy. The fact is that my life does not suck at all. The only thing missing is financial comfort and a lover, but what are ya gonna do? I'm extremely privileged and blessed and lucky. And I'm very aware of that. I'm living my dream. Herein lies the rub, I'm not enjoying it. Before you judge me as having a bad attitude, read below. There is a list of some of the things I have done over the last 13 months to bring on my remission. I have pretended to have fun. I have tried to have fun. I have done fun things. Quite a few. I've gone through the motions over and over.

I tried a new medication. And re-tried an old one. Weaned myself off of xanex and I'm proud to say that I have broken that dependence. It took 13-14 months of ugly withdrawal. I found a not-boyfriend and let myself have feelings for him. I even tried to foster that into a real relationship, though my attempts were feeble due to mutual incompetence. I then extracted myself from that relationship when it become more bad than good--mostly because I was so insecure and becoming delusional.

I nominated myself for student government and now I represent my department and go to meetings once a month. I interviewed for a lay-out job on the school newspaper, I did not get it. I interviewed for a teaching job in the boonies-suburbs and got the job. Total culture shock resulted from my sojourn into that Long Island Village. I've had to develop a whole new teaching style because they don't respond to the same things city kids do. I registered for a class I technically didn't need to take but I thought it would be better for me to do so. Which means I'm sitting through a 2 hour seminar with 15 other people once a week voulntarily. Then at the last minute I signed up to take one of the comprehensive exams--spent a few days studying, took the 4 hour beast and passed.

I went on dates. Went to several parties. I threw myself a birthday party--and thank you to all the lovely people who attended. I moved to a new apartment and got out of the ghetto. The move involved a lot of work on my part and then having to learn a whole new lifestyle because I now live in a more suburban area. I spent some time decorating my new apartment. This summer, I met one or more friends several times a week to do work in the library. Wrote an overdue paper and did research on other overdue papers. Went shopping for fun. Tried to update my wardrobe with new style. Went to movies with friends. I met new people, even went out of my way to meet new people.

I read novels. Learned to cook new food and improved my diet. I've cooked dinner for several friends. I learned new and better habits--now I keep my house fairly clean, and I even have clean underwear in the dresser! I'm more punctual than I used to be. I tried jogging again but was not impressed. I went to Philly for a weekend to see friends. I made plans for a book project with a friend. I started going to church again, to 3 different wards, one of which is in a foreign language. I was faithful to a Yoga routine--up until the break up in June. I hung out with my friends across the hall. I've gone bowling. I've gone out to eat with people. I flirted with the boy who lived downstairs from me and had dinner with him. I soured on him after I heard him and another housemate's loud sex echoing up the stairwell 3 floors. But I was still chatting him up anyway until the day I moved.

I bought theater tickets for me and my best friend who flew up in the spring just to go with me. I entertained my sister for a few days in October. We went shopping and took scenic walks. In April, a friend from Louisiana spent a few days with me and we saw the sights: walked the brooklyn bridge, rode the SI Ferry, did China Town and the village AND attended the singles ward in Manhattan! We were friendly and met several people there. Two weeks ago I joined friends from out of town in Little Italy for dinner. Then I had a friend over for Thanksgiving, we ordered Chinese food and watched movies. I cooked us a pecan pie. It was so good I made myself another pie that weekend. Then I ate it. I'm friendly to the new adjunct in the office, I frequently initiate conversation with him. I talked to him yesterday.

I smile at people and say hello and pretend everything is hunky dory. I also walk an average of 10-12 miles a week from commuting and doing errands and city life. Finally, my lil ghetto kitty thinks she is a dog. She whines at me everyday until I chase her around the apartment or throw balls for her to chase. She also howls at the door until I take her for walks up and down the stairs in the building. So, she's a good therapuetic cat in that she makes me run and she makes me laugh.

Does that sound like the life of a severe depressive? Absolutely not! DESPITE doing all those things, I was never glad I did it. Except for the things where I did things for other people. I'm glad that I could still help other people. And leaving the ghetto made my life better. But it hasn't made any difference on my illness. I can't control the thoughts in my head. I can't control my own emotions. My personality is disappearing. I FEEL LIKE I AM LOSING MY MIND AND THAT HAS BEEN DRIVING ME CRAZY!!! Until now. The new plan is to learn to live with this rather than trying to get better. There is no better. What I can control is my resistence and struggle--not the illness. By eradicating the struggle, I have lessened my burden. I'm going to lose my mind gracefully and in peace. The new plan is already working,life is much easier now.