Discoveries

So I recently realized that I'm a crappy writer. I have little to say lately, and what I do write, sucks big time. This isn't a huge problem in the grand scheme of things - it's not like I'm trying to make a living as a writer or anything. But it is somewhat of a let down - I thought I was better than I am. It's kind of like people that think they have a good sense of humor, are good drivers, are talented enough to entertain you with their rendition of Eminem's latest tune blasting from your car stereo...you get the idea. We all think we have some little talents and most of us do - but mine is not writing, and it's time I faced the facts.

I've also recently come to realize that this relationship with Vin is not what I thought it was. At All. That's hard to admit, and even harder to elaborate on. But I can say this - I am ready to face that every indicator points to this one solid point of fact - he is not going to leave his wife. And I know that there are things I will have to do in light of this fact. Whether or not I'm ready to do them is another matter. (Indicators are things like: he won't talk about our "one year timeline" and plans for the future; I've told him repeatedly over the past few weeks that there is much I'd like to talk to him about, and yet he cannot find the time to talk to me either in person or over the phone; he consistently fulfills obligations he has to his wife, kids, and inlaws - which shows more the picture of a committed family man rather than someone who is supposedly about to leave his wife. There's more, but these are the things that really stand out.)

My therapy is finally truly getting started. I saw the psychiatrist - she assured me that Prozac is fine for me to be taking for the symptoms I indicated. She then referred me to a therapist so that I could talk to someone about what's going on in my head. I had 2 sessions with that lady and due to scheduling conflicts, she referred me to someone else. I'm seeing the new lady this Friday. We'll see how it goes. The first therapist asked what I'd like to get out of therapy. I told her I'd like to get "me" back. I elaborated that I am starting to hate this person I've become. Weak. Easily manipulated. Submissive. Passive. Quiet. Trusting - too trusting. Constantly lying to myself and ignoring my gut feelings. I also told her that I wanted help understanding Bipolar and how to deal with it, so that I could be more supportive to Vin. She agreed, but then asked me how long I plan to stay in a relationship I'm not getting anything out of. Which was kind of unfair - I never said I am not getting anything out of this relationship - plus, she'd only seen me for 1 1/2 sessions when she said that. On the other hand, it's not a totally unfair statement. I do get things out of this relationship - but the real question is whether or not I'll ever get everything I need out of this relationship. That's what I'm trying to face.

I never thought at 32 that I'd be so fucked up. I had plans, man! Not gigantic, grand plans either. They were simple. Easy for most people.

So how'd I fuck it up so bad?