How do I know

It's been a tough day. I've been irritable and fidgety and crazy productive, although not for anything work-related. It's not as bad as it's been in the past, but it's worse than it usually is. I have this fear that it's a potent of something worse, that it's going to get really bad before it gets better.

It might explain why I'm so irritated with New Guy. Last night, when I hung out with Big Brother and the girl, he was (I thought) acting like an utter asshole. But then, I thought that the girl was acting kind of like an asshole, too, and Big Brother says they were both just fine. So maybe it's me. Maybe it's entirely my perception, which could mean that I'm just really pissy and irritable.

Now how do I handle it with New Guy? Do I just flat-out tell him, "I think I may have a hypomanic episode coming on, but I'm not sure, so if I turn into a crabby bitch, please don't hold it against me"? Yeah, that wouldn't freak anybody out. At the same time, though, if I do turn into a crabby bitch, I don't want him to think it's about him.

Unless it is about him. And how do I know? That is, oddly enough, one of the worst things about the crazazy: I can't trust my own perceptions. I can never really know if I'm actually feeling what I'm feeling or if it's just my jacked-up brain chemistry telling me something different.

I've got an appointment with Dr. R. on Thursday, thank God. I missed my last one because I was so pissed off after my meeting with Boss of Eternal Evil that I forgot it entirely. It's probably best that I'm going this week instead, though. With the way I feel now and the way I may well feel by the end of the week, I'll definitely, definitely need his input.

Crazazy little thing called love

This is awful. It makes me sound like such a princess. But I'm still having to get used to being treated well by New Guy. It's still a bit of an adjustment. And that's so stupid! It's stupid to say, "Wow, this guy is awesome, and he's sweet to me, and he genuinely likes me, and he lets me know it, and this makes me uncomfortable." But there you have it.

I guess it's just because it's something I've never encountered in my life. Ever. Ever. No man in my life has ever behaved that way. The Commodore was a narcissist. Hot Mess was emotionally distant. Big Brother is incapable of making a move or expressing his feelings. Dad is incapable of offering the most basic approbation without prompting--if even then. So with New Guy being so open about his feelings so early on, my natural inclination is to think, "Well, damn, what's wrong with this guy?"

That's how skewed my perception has gotten: I can't appreciate a normal, healthy guy for what he is. Which isn't to say New Guy doesn't have his faults; he does. They just aren't neuroses. And that's kind of refreshing, if unfamiliar.

Now that I think about it, I think that may be the rub. In the past, I think I've sought out other crazies in the misguided hope that, through the miracle of neurotic empathy, they might understand and accept me the way other people generally don't. But what usually happens is that we two crazies just bounce our neuroses off each other until we're both crazier than before and the whole thing collapses catastrophically.

New Guy isn't neurotic, but he seems to understand and accept me anyway. He doesn't want me to change to suit him. He doesn't want me to heal hi. He doesn't want me to stroke his ego or substitute for a lack of self-esteem or fill a hole in his life. He just wants me to be myself, doin' my thing, wherever he is, and maybe let him grope my boobs on occasion, and maybe let him do the things for me that he enjoys doing. That's all he asks of me, and it feels really, really good.

And really fucking weird.

Jumping ship

Okay, I do realize that you're never, ever, ever meant to ditch a medication without first discussing it with your doctor, and I totally understand why, but I just could not keep taking the Lexapro. Two weeks in, and the side effects were debilitating. I couldn't function, so I ditched it. And I'm so glad I did. I'm not nearly so tired anymore, I'm not groggy at work, I've regained both the energy and the inclination to exercise. I'm still not sure why Dr. R. put me on it in the first place, but I'm going to have to break it to him that it didn't work out.

Things are also going better with New Guy. I'm starting to realize that the behaviors that have made me so uncomfortable in the past are simply the behaviors of a guy who sincerely likes me. They're unfamiliar because he's a mature adult who isn't afraid to make his feelings clearly known. And now that I realize that, it's kind of nice. It's nice not to have to wonder how he feels about me. Dating a grownup--what a concept.

And what a pity that, between Hot Mess and so many exes and even my own dad, a mature adult who actually likes me and actually tells me so is such a novelty. I never even realized that I deserved such good treatment until I was already getting it and it was already freaking me out. I guess I'm just going to have to get used to being treated right by a man in my life.

We got the beat

Okay, the side effects have gotten a little bit better. I'm not dizzy or woozy or nauseated anymore, but I'm just plain beat most of the time. I actually got seven hours of sleep last night, albeit on the couch, and I'm just beat like a rug.

What's more, I'm completely unmotivated. Getting up in the morning, going to work, going back to work after lunch, all of it takes effort--almost more effort that I've got in me. That could be the Lexapro, or it could just be that I'm getting really tired of my job. I'm tired of never really knowing who I'm working for or who's in charge or what's expected of me, and I'm tired of getting my work shat upon by clients--and a certain boss--who don't know enough to know.

On the plus side, things seem to be looking up with Dr. R. Now that he's had  couple of sessions to get to know me and better understand my situation, I think he's ready to actually sit down and start therapizing me. And, more importantly, he seems wiling to work with what has already been successful for past therapists instead of trying to reinvent the wheel. Which is not to say that I'm not open to new techniques. If I thought electroshock would get my head straight, I'd wire up myself.

The other thing that's going better is New Guy. It's not perfect, but it's moving in a good direction, for a couple of reasons. One is that I've finally decided to put Hot Mess behind me. Not entirely, because I still do value his friendship. But there came a point when I said to myself, "I'm sitting here pining over an unemployed, unmotivated, emotionally distant guy two time zones away. Why is that?" And I gave myself permission to let it go.

I also talked to Big Brother, which always helps. I mentioned that New Guy keeps pushing forward, and I don't feel ready, so I pull back, and he just pushes forward. And Big Brother said, "Well, stop doing that." And I said, "Well, okay." And once I gave myself permission to like him, I... found that I like him.

It's still not perfect. He's still moving a lot faster than I feel comfortable moving, and he seems to be putting a lot more trust in me than I honestly feel I deserve. And I'm more comfortable with those things when I've been drinking than when I haven't, which is never a good sign (and which I'm not supposed to be doing anyway). But it's baby steps, it's all baby steps, and at least I'm not afraid of where I'm going anymore.

The New Guy

New Guy is moving fast. He texts me many, many times a day. He called me the other night to talk for an hour about nothing because he had to go back in to work late. And yesterday, he invited me to have drinks with his friends.

It would be great. That's precisely the level of engagement I'd want--any girl would want--in a boyfriend. But he's not my boyfriend. We went on one date a week ago. We've yet to establish the commonality necessary to sustain an hour-long chitchat, and I'm not going integrate myself into his social circle until I'm sure he's a keeper. Which he may turn out to be--if he slows down.

Curly Sue may be to blame for this. When we were talking post-first-date, she mentioned that New Guy never falls in love or really cares much. I said I was looking for someone who would be engaged and care as much as--but not more than--I do.

If she told him to stalk me to appear "engaged," I'ma whomp her with a sock full of pennies.

I know that no good comes of comparing him to Hot Mess, but I can't help it. Things with H.M. were just so simple from the very beginning. Conversation was fluid. Text frequency was ideal.

But now that I think about it, that wasn't terribly equal either. At first, I thought he was far more into it than I was, and of course we've since discovered that he's into it far less. So maybe this is a good sign. Maybe this is a sign that, six months from now, I'll be tragically in love with him and he'll be leaving town without a backward glance.

Oh, goody.

Phantom babies

I had a dream the other night that I was pregnant, and it was so vivid that I actually bought a pregnancy test today and took it just to make sure. It was negative, unsurprisingly, but what was surprising was the part of me that was disappointed by that.

How ridiculous is that? I'm not ready to be a mom; Hot Mess absolutely isn't ready to be a dad (in fact, in his current I'm-a-screwup mindset, an unintended pregnancy might just kill him). Maybe it's the self-destructive part of me jumping up again, I don't know. But some part of me wanted it.

Maybe it's because in my dream, it was awesome. Despite being burdened with an unintended pregnancy, I was happy and beautiful. And my parents were irate, and I don't even remember H.M.'s reaction; I don't even know if h was in the dream. But I was happy and beautiful and excited about the life inside of me.

The dream dictionaries all say something about a new creative endeavor, but I think it's about H.M. I think that now that he's gone, I'm clinging to any remnant of him that I can find, even if it' just his half of a phantom bastard. Pathetic.

Today at Mass, Father was talking about the power we have to change other people's lives and to heal, and I nearly started crying in the middle of church because of course I thought about Hot Mess and the ways I healed him and the ways he healed me. Except it feels like, in healing me, he grew into the injured parts, so that when he left he ripped it all open again.

I went on an actual date Saturday night. New Guy is great. He's the diametrical opposite of H.M. in just about every way: tall, built, much older, stable, established, very focused, very intense. He opened doors. He stood when I left the table and again when I returned. He's everything that I need in a man at this stage of my life.

But he's not going to sit up with me and teach me to play poker when I can't sleep. And he's not going to suddenly whack me with a pillow just because the room got too quiet. And although he'll feel duty-bound to take care of me, he won't let me return the favor. And that' s what I need at this stage of my life, too.

Maybe I'm just not ready to date again yet. Because every man I see will be measured against Hot Mess, and lose, because nobody's him. And I need to get used to the fact that I will never have him.