I've found real love to be more of a startling awareness of someone's significance. It's subtle. The other person simply becomes more real than the rest of the world.

Holy shit, victor. That really nails it. Certainly at least as far as how I feel about S, and how I came to realize her importance to me.

So, like, what if I wear something low-cut...

I've found real love to be more of a startling awareness of someone's significance. It's subtle. The other person simply becomes more real than the rest of the world.

AAaaand, this is why victor is a writer. This is it, exactly.

Owen's trying to learn his first knock, knock joke and it is CRACKING ME UP.

::grin:: I'd like it if I could find someone period. Any where is up from here.

Now have strange Irish medicines, but hey, at least I'm breathing without trouble and I don't want to fall asleep at the desk. Twenty minutes and I can go home! Or, actually, to the store! Where I will buy a cute jacket.

Now have strange Irish medicines, but hey, at least I'm breathing without trouble and I don't want to fall asleep at the desk.

Strange name or strange ingredients?

The Boy is officially the boyfriend, BTW. As in, he actually used the B word this weekend.

And yes, I am rather happy about that.

BUT. Oh, the perils of an adult relationship. He has depression that, when it gets bad, is worse than mine. He also has OCD and ADD. It's all a very bad combination, though generally managed with meds.

Except that his doctor has been shuffling his meds around, which, as I'm all too aware, can fuck with your brain something fierce. So he decided to stop taking one of his new drugs because he thought it was making him irritable. Which it might have been, BUT he was also tapering off a different drug at the same time, and *that* can cause irritability, too.

So, yeah. He just randomly stopped taking the drug that's supposed to have an anti-anxiety effect on him. And he hasn't taken his Ritalin in a few days (or more), and that's a longer story than I have the energy to get into.

No Ritalin means he's having the hardest time in the world concentrating, which means he doesn't get anything done without someone there to keep him on track, which means his house is a disaster area -- no, REALLY -- and he hasn't been able to straighten it up without someone (read: ME) there to gently remind him to stay on track.

But then he gets all stressed about his house, and because he's not taking the anti-anxiety drugs, that just becomes an cycle that feeds on itself. He feels overwhelmed and doesn't know where to start, and so he just gives up.

His mood has been (no surprise) ping-ponging all over the place for the past couple of weeks. Last night he was as non-functional low as I've ever seen him, and it scared the crap out of me. Last night was also when I first found out that he just randomly stopped taking the anti-anxiety medication.

He has an appointment with his therapist today. He and I talked about needing to get his meds straightened out, that just randomly stopping a psychoactive drug isn't a good idea, etc. We talked about the fact that he needs to lay out really clearly for his therapist the kind of mood swings he's been having, and their severity, and the fact that he's been not taking his meds.

I know, all too well, what it's like to be in the grip of bad depression. And how that makes you feel non-functional and frustrated and out of control and (often) angry as hell. (He and I have talked about that, too -- the fact that I know from the inside out what he's going through.)

And because I know what it's like, I know -- more or less -- what he needs from other people right now. Support, and company, and a helping hand. And that's exactly what I'm going to do -- what I *am* doing.

That said, I think you all know from hearing about my Dad's heart-disease saga how HUGE my issues are around being the "caretaker." I don't want to do it. The Boy called last night, like I said, as low as I've ever seen him, and all I wanted to do was watch Studio 60 and fold laundry and go to bed (alone). He scared the crap out of me, and I asked him if I could do anything (praying that he wouldn't ask me to come over to his place, because, like I said, it really is a disaster area and all the pet hair makes me not breathe), and he asked if he could come over to my place.

I said of course, and asked if he wanted to stay over. So he came over, and I made him some dinner, and we talked a little bit, like I said above, and then we went to bed. He crashed hard, the instant he crawled into bed. In 30 seconds, he was snoring like a big fat old man.

I'm glad I can be there for him, offer him a haven, and I fully intend to keep doing so, but I have to tell you, when he asked if he could come over, and I said of course -- after I hung up the phone, I spent about 5 full minutes on the couch just muttering over and over, "I can't DO this. I CANNOT fucking DO this."

I don't want to be the caretaker. And yet I understand what a fucking hypocrite that makes me, given how bad my depression has been in the past (and, odds are, will be again in the future). But I (continued...)

( continues...) don't want to be the caretaker. I don't, I don't, I don't, and it makes me just want to unplug my phone when I get home tonight, because I just don't want to deal. With every fiber of my being, I don't want to deal.

But I will. Because I really do care about him SO much, and that's what you do in a relationship.

Er....wow. I guess I really needed to core-dump, there.

But I will. Because I really do care about him SO much, and that's what you do in a relationship.

Aw, Steph. It is what you do. But that also has to go both ways. The balance has to shift so that one person isn't ALWAYS the caretaker. Which, I'm sure, you already know. I hope the meds situation gets sorted and the boy gets back on track.

is should be isn't.