Everything sucks and it's all my fault.

Seriously, if you don't want to read awful, angry crap, then turn away now.

NOW.

This post is entirely composed of non-constructive, angry blathering. I'm an asshole for posting it, but here it is.

So, I got really REALLY depressed last February. I lost an entire summer to it. I played retarded Warcraft and moped. I spent the better part of the fall doing the same thing.

Somewhere in there, my wife tells me that she's no longer attracted to me. Ouch. I'd become a depressed, fat fuck. I couldn't say that I blamed her, but it still stung like hell. It still does.

Instead of using that pain for introspection and then refocusing it into action for getting healthy and resuming therapy, I used it as an excuse to pummel myself even more and sink ever deeper into depression. Such is the way of depression. It sucks. Given that I had stopped sitting and stopped getting regular therapy, I wasn't able to intercept all of that shit happening. It just ran me over and dragged me along.

A bit later on Jen tells me, after some romantic overture or other, that she doesn't think of me that way anymore. OUCH. That's fucking great. See above paragraph for the repeating pattern. Pummel, sink, pummel, sink ad nauseam.

Now she wants me to move out. OUCH OUCH OUCH. My sister offered that I could sleep on their floor as needed, and I have done periodically. But they have a one-bedroom apartment and I know it makes them uncomfortable to have me there. Rather, I think it makes them uncomfortable. My sister denies it categorically, but I can't shake the feeling that I'm a big imposition on them. So, unwelcome at "home", an imposition away, I really feel like I have nowhere to go. NOWHERE. I also have no job. Jen wrote me a check for three grand, just to get me out of the condo (FUCKING OUCH), which is convenient for her, being that she's the one with a job and resources et al. I haven't cashed it, fuck that. I've looked at studio apartments, rooms for rent, but nobody wants an unemployed person. On top of that, I'm a good deal older than most people who advertise rooms for rent are figuring on. Let's see, rent to the student or the creepy, old guy?

So, she says she can't work on the relationship until I've "proven" to her that I can look after myself and that she's "reconnected" with whatever it is that she wants to do with her life. This sounds plausible, but it also sounds like she's looking for confirmation and permission to hammer in the last nail. Everybody I've talked to says that this is exactly backwards of the way these things are normally resolved. I have to take their word for it, I've never done this before.

It's my understanding that Jen has never had to deal with depression in her family before. With a couple of notable exceptions, her family is almost relentlessly content. Contrast that with my family: All of my sibs (except my youngest sister, as far as I know) have the same abiding, chronic, low-grade depression. I didn't think any of my family would know how it felt to want to throw yourself in front of a bus, but it turns out that most of them really REALLY do understand. Scarily so.

When we first got together, I offered Jen a couple of books to read that explain how these things work and how to understand what's going on. She declined. When we first got together I was getting regular therapy and was sitting at least once daily. I was on top of it. As things got worse and I quit being on guard about my mental state, I offered again. Declined. Now that things are all but in the shitter, I offer again. Now she says it's too late. How fucking convenient.

She said she never knew if it was depression or laziness or the ADD (or whatever). I tell her it's definitely depression, but I know (again, I feel) that it sounds like an excuse to her. Like I'm making it up or something. This has been a through-thread in my life: Whenever anybody questions what's going on with me, the explanation sounds like an excuse and they reject it (some have even said so. "There's no such thing as depression!" somebody said that to me once). The dominant opinion on the matter (according to non-depressed people) is that depression is bullshit. Just snap out of it! Oh, were it that easy.

Anyway, now I'm being paid-off, pushed out. No money, no job (I keep applying, I've had one interview for a job that isn't full-time and doesn't pay a living wage) and nowhere to go, really. Fuck me. I have to "prove" to her that I'm still worth being married-to. WTF? She says that she's not taking this decision lightly, but it doesn't feel that way. It feels like she just wants to be rid of me and once I get established she'll end it.

So, here's a big FUCK YOU to 2009. You sucked and it was all my fault. So far 2010 isn't much better, but it has potential. Right now I'm an angry, depressed, fat, unfuckable asshole. A thorn in the side of everybody I come into contact with. A big cry-baby who's too lazy / crazy to look after himself. QQ more!

I have no clear ending for this, this is mainly a free-floating rant. Probably NOBODY* will ever read it, so who cares what I put in it. Hooray for that.

* - If you have had the misfortune to stumble upon this entry, I apologize. Nobody should have to read this.