I Feel A Lot...

...better today. The last 2 days have not been good for me or my spirit. So I got up this morning and played tennis for 3 hours. When I got on the court, I was still sluggish and feeling blah. But as I played, I felt better and better. I took my mind off of finances, men, obligations, life decisions, family issues, job, and everything else and I just played. I feel so much better.

The only problem with playing tennis so much is that my face is now much darker than the rest of my body. I may have to start playing naked!LOL

I'm Not In...

...the highest of spirits this week, so anything I post will be depressing as hell. It's just a host of issues that have me down. Right now I don't want to think about "how good I have it" or that "other people have it worse".

I am allowed to feel what I feel when I feel it. And right now I just feel depressed. I'm sure it will pass just like it always does.

This Has To Be...

...The saddest story I have ever read.

http://www.chron.com/disp/story.mpl/nation/6232703.html

Life Just Ain't Fair

I just don't understand it. Do you ever wonder why some peoples' lives just seem to be so perfect? Do you wonder what they are doing to that you are not? Or is it that they are just blessed by God? Why can't I be one of those people?

I swear that sometimes, I just want to scream because NOTHING seems to go the way that I want it to. It doesn't seem to matter how hard I try or what I do. No matter how much I plan. No matter how much I pray. No matter anything. I swear that NOTHING seems to go how I want it to go. NOTHING!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I don't know what to do and sometimes feel like giving up and saying fuck it. But how do you give up on life? What the hell does that mean?

Sometimes, I want to just sail off to a deserted island and just be by myself where noone can bother me. Where I don't have to worry about bills, or a career, or relationships or anything.

Don't worry, i'm sure that this will pass soon enough. I just need a few days to get myself together.

My Breakdown

For the last few weeks, I have been in the best of moods. I have been able to smile genuinly. I have taken time to enjoy myself. I have been seeing my friends and letting them know that I love and appreciate them. I have talked to my family. I told all of my issues and problems to go to hell. I wasn't concerning myself with bills, loneliness, self-esteem, control, dating, or anything. I just resolved to be happy and understand that shit happens and you handle it when it happens.

But Saturday, those issues all came out in the form of a breakdown in the parking deck of the Metropolis condo building in Midtown Atlanta. It was about 3:15 am when my crew and I left Bulldogs *my favorite club/bar in Atlanta* and headed to the car. We had enjoyed the club and had a good time socializing and decided to head to KJ's house to cook breakfast and feed our alcohol filled stomachs. We piled into my and KJ's cars still laughing and acting a fool. I put the key in the ignition and it wouldn't crank. All I heard was a distinct clicking soung emanating from under the hood of my car. My first thought was that the battery was dead even though I hadn't left lights or anything on in the car. At 3am, this is just not something that you want to happen.

At first, I was cool. I called 21st Century Insurance Roadside Assistance. The young lady was very helpful and I was impressed that she asked the right questions as to how to find me. She even asked what the clearance to the parking deck was to be sure that the assistance truck would fit. After we got off the phone, I put it down and just sighed. My friends were a little bummed that this was happening as I was, but they were cool. But then, I did something that I never do. I asked out loud "why did this have to happen".

The next thing I remember I was throwing my cell phone and car keys onto the floor of the car and screaming over and over "why did this have to happen". I couldn't control myself and my friends must have thought that I had snapped, which I had. They tried to console me, but I just kept crying and screaming. I honestly wanted to die at that moment. They kept telling my that it was just a car and that it would be fixed. But what they didn't understand is that it wasn't about the car. It was about life in general and it was just time for my frustrations to come out. I hadn't cried since my mother died 6.5 years ago.

I jumped out of the car and just walked away screaming and crying like a damn fool. I kept asking God "why do things never go right for me" and "what did I do to bring this on me". I sat down on the curb and put my head in my hands and just cried. My friends were still talking to me, but I really couldn't hear anything that they were saying. It wasn't until one of them walked me away from the car and told me "we are here for you and we will help you through whatever it is you are going through" that I partially calmed down.

We tried to jumpstart my car using KJ's car, but he has a Mercedes-Benz and we couldn't get to the battery. I almost went back into my fit, but I just had to hold it in. Luckily someone called another friend who lived in the building and he was just getting in from a party. He hooked his car up to mine and mine started right up. I was still a little too distraught to drive, so someone else drove.

I wanted to go to home, but I was persuaded to continue with the original plan of going to cook breakfast. We also decided that we woudl just stay the night at KJ's house instead of any of us being alone. I got my car checked out and it was just a dead battery that only cost me $65 to replace.

I think the reason that I snapped was that it seems like everytime I decide to be happy and enjoy my life, something happens that sets me back. Back in 2004, I got laid off from my job. In 2002, my one true relationship ended after a physical fight. In 2001, my mother died. Years 2006 and 2007 saw me in financial difficulty. At that moment when I turned the key and my car wouldn't start all of the things from the past few years just decided to burst forward and manifest themselves. My worries about life issues: being single, money, self-image, and all the rest just decided that they wouldn't be held in anymore. I screamed, yelled, and cried and was not the least bit ashamed or embarrased about it.

I'm always the one who's calm, cool, and collected. Never panicking. Always there for friends. Handles any situation. Can take control and get things done. But at that moment, I just needed to be vulnerable and have someone take care of me. Thankfully, I had 6 people there who did just that. And I thank God for them.

I Felt So Weak

So for the 6th weekend in a row, Beatmug and Goofy have come to Atlanta, from Birmingham to party (and next week will make 7). I wasn't planning on going out, but they offered to pay my way in and buy my drinks if I would let them stay with me and go out with them.

We were having a good time talking with people that we knew and having a few drinks. While sipping on my Long Island Iced Tea, I turned around and froze. I didn't want to see him, but he was standing right there 3 feet in front of me. If you don't know who he is, it's VP. My ex from a couple years back. He's the man that inspired this, this, this, this, this, this, this and a few more postings.

I swear, as soon as I looked into his eyes, my heart started racing, my mouth went dry, my hands started sweating, and I downed my drink! Then he smile at me and all of those physiological actions went into overdrive. I had no intentions of doing what I did, but I went over to him to speak. We talked for a minute about a few things and then I walked away. I asked him about the kids, his job, and his mom. He asked me about nothing.

After I walked away, I just felt strange all over. And what made it worse is that he seemed to follow me around the club smiling at me. At one point, he stood right next to me, but wouldn't say anything to me. I found out that it was because the guy that was standing to the left of him was the guy that he was seeing. I imagine that he must have told the dude who I was, because the guy kept staring at me like he wanted me dead. I was ready to kick off the shoes and take of my sweater and whoop some ass in the club. I guess Beatmug must have sensed what was going on because he handed me 151 and coke. After that, I just walked away again.

During my walk to the other side of the club, I felt someone grab by ass and take a squeeze. When I turned around and saw that it was VP, I didn't know what to do. Later on, he asked me for my phone number, but when I didn't see him pull out his phone to record it, I gave him a my old home phone number. I wonder who he called?

So finally we left the club and headed to Waffle House for some breakfast before heading home. The entire time I was eating and driving, I couldn't get my mind off of him.

Why does this man affect me like this?

Why do I still love him?

Why do I have this affinity for him?

Why, after 1.5 years apart can't I get over him if I know that he's no good?

Why doesn't he just grab me and hold me and never let go?

Why doesn't he feel the same way that I do?

All day Sunday, I kept asking myself these questions and replaying our relationship over and over in my head. I put my 'Come Back to Me" Cd in and listened to Whitney sing "Why Does It Hurt So Bad". I listened to Patti sing "Kiss Away the Pain". I listened to Xscape sing "The Arms of the One Who Loves You". I just felt like crying, but as we all know, I am incapable of doing that.

I had been depressed all day thinking about someone who I am sure is not thinking about me. So I turned to the one "person" that I knew could help. So while sitting in the airport waiting for my flight to Vermont, I just prayed to God for the strength to get this man out of my head and heart. Well, as I have witnessed, prayer works when it's sincere. The next day, I didn't even think about him, or Hollywood, or Infiniti, or Dreads, or Chicago.

I realized that although I have strong feelings (maybe even still be love) for these men, I don't have to let my feelings for them consume me. And I thank God for that.

But now I have to take the test of seeing any one of them again and see what happens. God be with me.

It's All My Doing

Imagine that you are feeling bad about the state of your life. Now imagine realizing that all of your misfortune is a result of your doing. That's what's on my mind right now.

I just can't be happy about my life. But I feel even worse when I realize that everything that has led me to where I am, has been my doing.

I just can't win. I can't even get ahead.

I'm sick of feeling this way, but I swear that I just can't get off the ground.

What the fuck am I supposed to do?

Letting It Out

I didn't really want to talk about my depression because only 1 other person knows that I go through it and that i'm not pretending. But I think that it's time that I let this thing out of the bag. I can tell you first hand why people who suffer from depression don't want people to know. They do it because people can be cruel. When people find out, they think that you are "crazy" or something worse. People look at you differently. They think that they have to talk to you in a soft voice or touch you on the shoulder when they talk to you. Basically, they judge you.

When I was in college, I went to see a psychiatrist because I was severely depressed. It got to a point where I didn't want to go to work, go to class, or interact with anyone. Since I had been in my teens, I would go through these periods where this would happen. I had no idea that it was depression. Like most black people, I thought that it was just "the blues" and that "the Lord" could make it better.

One day, during one of these depressive periods, I decided that I had had enough and I actually thought about driving off a bridge that I was about to go across. Just before I was about to make a decision whether or not to do it, my phone rang and it interrupted my thoughts. I didn't do it. But because that was not my first time having suicidal thoughts I decided that it was time to seek professional help because I knew that I really didn't want to die.

I also had been having panic attacks at least twice a week. If you have never had a panic attack, you don't want to ever have one. If you remember when Terri Joseph on Showtime's Soul Food was having them, that 's what it's like. Shortness of breath, profuse sweating, a perceived rise in body temperature, and extreme thirst. Your heart feels like it's about to stop or has stopped and you feel like you are about to die. The bad part about it is that there is nothing that you can do about it. The only thing that made me feel better was cold air and cold water.

The panic attacks would happen anywhere at any time. I once had one in class and had to grab my stuff and run to my car. When I got to my car, I turned that air on high and sat there until it subsided. Another time, I was in the mall shopping with my ex-boyfriend and it started. Once again, I ran to my car and turned the air on high.

I started seeing a psychiatrist in February of 2000 right after the incident on the bridge. Of course we started with the usual "why do you feel that way", "what made you react in that manner" type of questions. But he did delve into my childhood as I expected. He helped me to realize that some of the things that my parents did were not meant to hurt me and may have even been to protect me from harm Although he did agree with me that their methods may not have been the best. He helped me to let go of some of the resentment that I had for my parents AND my sibling.

I also told him about the fact that I was adopted and just never felt fully connected to and accepted by my family. I always believed that I was treated differently (I was) from the other children. The therapist helped me to just let some of that go (not all of it).

All in all, I was helped. But I couldn't afford to keep going because the ish was expensive and I didn't have insurance. But I think that it's time that I start seeing a therapist again. For a while, I thought that I was over the depression and panic attacks. But over the last year, it's started back. I have only a few panic attacks this year, but the depressive episodes have become more frequent.

So now, it's time for me to review my insurance and get a referral to a psychiatrist here in Atlanta. Yet Another Black Guy said it best when he said that "nobody should go have to go it alone".

Tired

My mind, body, and spirit are all just tired. I just feel all fucked up. And the sad part about it is that I don't feel like anyone would understand how I feel, so I don't feel like talking about it, and I don't want to be pitied.

I'll write about how I feel later, but right now, I just want to sleep.

Just Let It Out

For the last few weeks I have really been feeling pretty depressed about the state of my life. I'm not surprised, because I always feel this way around this time of year and I know exactly why. This is the time of year when people are all excited about being with family and celebrated what family means to them. I am actually envious of people who have family to celebrate with and that shows them love. I honestly don't feel like I have that. And a lot of times, I feel like I never have.

I have always felt like the outcast of the family. I always noticed how in my younger years at family get togethers I always felt like an outsider. I know that that that feeling is because I was adopted and just didn't feel like a true part of the family. Let alone the fact that I was ALWAYS reminded that I was adopted. I would always hear comments such as "he's not our real brother; my parents adopted him." Once my mother was talking to a friend about "her baby" turning 16 years of age. I can still remember saying "but moma i'm only 9 years old" and her saying "not you, my real baby." When everyone heard this, they all laughed. I ran from the room and hid in my closet for about 8 hours. I think that I cried for about 7 of those 8 hours. And the saddest part of that was that no one even noticed that I was gone. I had never felt more hurt in my life and I honestly wanted to die.

From that point on, my closet (how ironic) became my hiding place. Whenever I felt hurt or in some emotional pain, I would hide in the closet so that no one would see the hurt. Right now, I feel like I am still hiding in that clost because I really don't associate with too many members of my family. They never know what's going on in my life because I don't talk about my life to them. When questions are asked, I give short succint answers to let them know not to ask anything else. My life is still in that closet.

My life remains in that closet when it comes to my family. I know that they all know that I am homosexual, but I have never discussed that side of my life with anyone in my family except my sister (she's a lesbian). I just wouldn't know how to feel if the subject were brought up. After years of listening to all of the homo-hating language that they spoke, I don't want to let them know about my life and what's going on in it. I don't want them thinking that I am all of the stereotypes that they believe about homosexual men. I would rather not talk about it.

But sometimes I feel that I should. I feel that I should confirm my homosexuality so that they don't have to guess and wonder. But I know that once I do, all feelings will change. It's like at that very moment, they will forget that I am the same person that I always have been. Therefore, I choose to stay in that closet. Even though, the door is wide open and they can see in, I don't want to walk out.

But I am wondering if when I confirm my homosexuality, will these yearly bouts of depression end? Will they accept me as a family instead of "the gay one" that everyone tolerates? Will I say "fuck all of ya'll" and never speak to anyone in my family again? I don't know, and I wonder if I truly want to know.