Desperation in Outline Form

Mon Jun 30 2003 10:35PM -0800

I don't mean for this to sound deadly serious. I mean, really, it's supposed to be funny. (I'm operating on the somewhat sadistic principle that everything is funny as long as it isn't happening to you. So laugh. Point fingers. Say "Ha-ha!" like Nelson Muntz from "The Simpsons") And then there is this ridiculous explanation for why this blog is the way it is. (In the words of my oldest friend, "It's all bullshit.") It's all, in the end, supposed to be an attention-nabbing gimmick.

Long story short, don't believe a goddamned thing that I write.

I may very well be depressed. Two people have placed it at the top of their differential diagnosis, and I am certainly exhibiting some of the pernicious signs and symptoms. (Not that I have all these, but I'll recite them for board review purposes: anhedoniaâ€â€the inability to enjoy things that I have previously found enjoyable, feelings of unremitting sadness, of hopelessness, helplessness, worthlessness, and excessive and inappropriate guilt. Crying spells. Loss of appetite. Insomnia.)

There is something incredibly seductive in believing that some of this might very well be relieved by drugs. I mean, rationally, even if I am truly clinically depressed, it's not going to solve any of my problems. On the other hand, if I am truly clinically depressed, it'll at least take some of this weight off my back, I think. The way I see it, there's nothing wrong with empirical treatment.

But I just feel like I have lost my way. I am, for some deranged reason, afraid to go on in my chosen path. Not because of anything tangible. It's just this stark feeling of unease, this fear of the unknown. I mean, this is despite envisioning spending most of my final year in med school at home in L.A. in a familiar environment. (I have grown weary of my self-imposed exile in the Midwest, and shudder at the thought of spending another godforsaken winter out there.)

Mostly, I am tired. Despite having had an entire week to decompress and try to regain my bearings, I am still somewhat paralyzed and afraid to try. As usual, a lot of the hard-won wisdom I gained this past year has been rendered inaccesible. I just can't remember. And even if I do, I can't seem to apply it to my situations.

I suppose this is what I'm really afraid of: If, at this stage in the game, when my responsibility is still pretty minimal, I'm already on the verge of cracking, what will happen to me later on? I can't continue on believing I'm on this razor thin edge, scrambling for balance. There will be really, really, bad days ahead, and I cannot afford to let it get to me the way I've let these last twelve weeks get to me. (Ah yes, I have finally written down my evil resident story.)

See, the thing I recognize that makes this perhaps unnecessarily painful is that I feel like I can't drag anyone down in my madness. I mean, I know that I have a pretty good support system, in terms of family and friends, but, I don't know. These past few years, I just feel like I need to be strong and stand on my own two feet. Protect those that I care about from my insanity. That sort of thing.

But right now, I can't hang. I feel beat. But life continues to run me over.

Oh well. Whatever needs to happen will happen, with or without me. I just wish I had a little more strength of will. But wishing won't get me anywhere.

But really. Don't worry about me. Don't take this too seriously. In a rather sick way, it's supposed to be amusing. The way that car crashes can make some people laugh. This too will pass. At least that much I'm certain.

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