Reflection from April 10, 2009 @ 27 Years Old

Hey.  It’s been awhile.  I’ve been insecure as ever.  I wrote Addison Hatfield today and told her all about my life, well not all about my life since college, but I told her I got sick in law school and it took me four years instead of just three to finish (like a normal person).  And I told her how I couldn’t take the bar exam, and about my job and how it’s a “good opportunity”, but then also about my Plan A, and I said that the book’s about a girl who is bipolar and the things that she goes through.  I said, “it’s very familiar to me, if you know what I mean.”  I wonder if she’ll get that it’s about me.

Anyways, it makes me uneasy sharing my life with others.  It makes me very uneasy.  I told Marc today (the leader of the Wake Up to Your Life Buddhist Group I’ve been going to lately) that part of the reason I feel so stupid lately is because I can’t remember simple things and I said I think it’s a side effect I’ve been having from a medication that I have to take, problems with my memory and all.

I mean, did I really have to tell Addy I was bipolar and Marc that I take medication?  Did I?  Or was I supposed to hide that information?  It’s hard because taking medication and being bipolar is such an intricate part of my life, it’s just so hard to separate it and tuck it away from the world so that I can appear perfect and untouchable.

On an associated strange note, I find that when I talk to people, I ask them pretty personal questions.  I think they wonder why I would ask things like that, though I could be wrong because I really have no idea what they are thinking.

Anyways, I ask personal questions because I’m interested in personal details, not the stupid meaningless bullshit that people usually shoot around all the time.  I feel like people think I’m weird because I do ask personal questions and because I am marred with bipolar and medication.  If I let them in, won’t they think I’m even more strange and then run?

I find as well, that I am a very intense person.  I think this turns most people off.  I don’t think they can handle it.  But really, I’m attributing all my own experience to all of these other people who might be so super nice and who could maybe just love me as I am.  I have to wade through the people who will run from me to get to the people who will love me as I am.  I hate that.

I feel like I have nothing pertinent to say.  I’ll leave you with that, then, and try to experience life in the present instead of dwelling on the past and worrying about the future.  Sigh.


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