Rereading my entry from a couple of days ago, I'm already cringing that I thought David would ask me to move to Dubai with him. But, a little over a month ago, he did ask me to move in with him, and he suggested moving together to another country on a couple of occasions--first the US or Canada and then Bermuda.

So I just want to prove that I am not completely delusional. It would simply seem that he gave up on the fantasy before I did.

This coming weekend is going to be difficult on me. Caroline leaves tomorrow for a canoe trip and there's no hash on Sunday, so I will have to go to a bit more effort to ensure that I don't end up staying in all weekend, feeling sorry for myself.

I feel really emotionally delicate right now--like every little thing is having a huge effect on me and I'm up then down then up then down again. If this isn't an endorsement for staying single, I don't know what is.

I got home from my movie night around 11:30 and got on Skype. Chris popped on a few minutes later. If I were home, I'd just paste the conversation that we had, but I don't have that privilege here, so, basically he said that he regretted dumping me and that he's pissed at his life. He said that he feels empty.

But he also said that he doesn't want any more than what we have right now and when I asked if that meant he has gone back on wanting me to move to Vienna, he said he didn't know.

He said that he would like a few days to reconsider our relationship. That pissed me off like you would not believe. Not only have I been in that situation before, but I don't appreciate that now even our breakup has to be on his terms. Fuck that.

And if he actually regretted dumping me, he would want to take me back but instead he just wants to think about it. I think this means that he doesn't want me but regrets that he upset me enough to force me to retreat from him for so long. I told him that he'd gotten a glimpse of what life would be like without me and it freaked him out, so now he's trying to salvage a friendship.

Anyway, he said he'd email me when he gets home from work today around 2 or 3 PM. I told him I'd respond, but then I went ahead and wrote to him anyway. And now for your reading pleasure, the entire text of that email:

Hi, Chris.

I was going to wait to email you until after you write, but you said
something last night that seemed like a big red flag to me and I
needed to comment: you said that you feel empty.

Now, I know that this may come across as annoying to you, but I say it
because I love you and I care. I am fairly certain that you're
dealing with some depression and anxiety. Of course, no one should
feel that way, but especially not you: you have a good job, a family
that loves and cares about you, a lot of great friends, and a lot of
talents and skills. Feeling empty when you have that kind of life is
a sign that something is wrong within.

I really, really think you should see someone. For just an hour a
week, you could feel so much better about everything, because I think
you need some perspective. I'm not even saying that you have to be
satisfied with your life; there are certainly things you could change
to make things better. Maybe you could take up a sport, form a band,
travel more. Maybe you could start consulting people financially or
write a book. Maybe you could start going to more VIP events with
Hadschi and meeting more people.

But I think that seeing a professional counselor would be a good way
to keep track of this. You may not get anything out of it and, after
a few weeks, decide to stop. But I think it'd be a good place to
start.

As for us, I don't think I'm the problem in your life that has made
you unhappy, but maybe I am. I just know that when you did pickup you
still had low moments because you missed [your ex-girlfriend] and wanted her back. I
don't think your life was so much better, but maybe it was. That's
for you to know.

It says volumes, though, that when you felt so agitated and angry at
life, you decided that the thing that had to be changed was me. Maybe
that's because it was the easiest thing to do, but I don't think
that's entirely it. For some reason, you think I have placed some
restrictions on you. There is nothing I can do to convince you that
this isn't true, that you are free to your adventures and your
independent life as long as you are with me.

Truly, there are so many shades of my relationship with [an ex I never talked about in LJ before] in this
that it's unbelievable. All the way down to his dumping me when he
felt commitment pressures and then his needing time to reconsider that
he dumped me. Although I believe that we could be so happy together
if you solved your own emotional problems, it's much easier for you to
blame me and make drastic changes in your social life, feel energized
by the changes for a while until you decide that something else is
needed (at that point, maybe it's a girlfriend), and then you change
again. There's nothing wrong with living that way but it never
tackles the root cause of the problem, which is that you are
unjustifiably unhappy with yourself and feel entitled to some
Hollywood ideal lifestyle that you've never had. I am certainly not
the one caught up in a fairytale and certainly not the one who needs a
dose of reality, even though you've accused me of that throughout our
relationship.

I would like to think that I have offered you a loving relationship
with some adventures and a lot of care and fun. And even if I have
succeeded in that, it is not what you need at the moment.

I guess it's time for us to end our relationship and you to figure out
what it is that you need and want out of life. Realistically need and
want. Just saying "adventure" doesn't mean anything, and I wanted to
get to that last night when I asked you about your goals. I mean,
what do you envision? Are you jumping out of helicopters shooting
semi-automatic weapons at bad guys? Are you on stage, playing your
music in front of adoring fans? Are you a man with many lovers and no
obligation to any of them? If so, what are you doing to achieve these
goals?

I think that the goal you must want is to be the lover. The closest
you came to that didn't make you happy, and you sought a
girlfriend--me--to fill the emptiness. That suggests to me that I am
not the problem and once you are free of me, you'll realize my worth
to you. But I can't prove that to you now.

So, I guess that your unrealistic expectations of life and your
depression will force us to part. I hope that now you are able to
find what makes you happy. Don't bury yourself in pickup or video
games. Seek the help you need. Maybe it will save your next
relationship or, more importantly, make you feel better about
yourself.

Love,
Kate

The only thing left to do is to change my status to "single" on Facebook. I thought I'd wait until he responded, but maybe that's allowing him too much control. Besides, taking some time for ourselves doesn't mean we have to be broken up forever, if telling ourselves that helps us both to get past the pain. But I'm sick of all the blame. I'd like to think that if I were unhappy, I wouldn't lash out at the person who loved me most, but that may have been exactly what happened to end my relationship with Leon. In the end, though, it was better for him and this should be better for both me and Chris.

Ok, two weeks in a row without dropping a pound. I’m ok to plateau here for a bit; that happened to me in June. Weight loss is a long process for me, and I’ll get there eventually.

I don’t want to go into too much detail, but Chris won’t be able to get his vasectomy in a couple of weeks. The procedure is too dangerous in his case.

His anxiety has gotten so bad that he is sealing himself off in World of Warcraft. I’m worried about him because I love him. There’s a selfish part of me that kind of wants to break up with him because it’s not enjoyable for me anymore and he was never supportive of me in anything, ever, but I don’t see how I could break up with someone who is having anxiety problems. I know what he’s feeling, and it would be cruel to pile something else on him.

Anyway, last night, I played World of Warcraft with him for a bit, but it wasn’t fun because we were in a Skype call (as we usually are) and he was barking orders at me and I could hear him chomping his gum, which is such a disgusting sound. If I’m going to waste my free time doing something completely unproductive, can’t it at least be fun?

He was holed up in his apartment this past weekend. He said he played World of Warcraft for 24 hours. I assume he means total. Meanwhile, I went out with my friends on Friday night, saw David for a huge part of Saturday (not the best way to spend time, but at least I was out), and then went out on paddleboats with the hash on Sunday. Oh, and I talked on the phone with Dirk that evening. I feel like staying in all weekend and playing World of Warcraft makes sense when the weather is crappy, but it was beautiful.

Actually, I’m concerned that he’s going to return to where he was a few months ago and play this game all the time until he realizes that he’s sedentary and unhappy and the only change he’s willing to make for himself is to return to the seduction community.

He really does have a lot of problems. People with so many problems aren’t really stable enough to be in relationships, are they? I am the same. I should not be in a relationship. Maybe he and I can be more of a support group for each other, but he’s going to have to open up.

And I’m supposed to go to Vienna this weekend, but I’d kind of rather be in Prague. Caroline is planning another outing on the paddleboats and I’m sad that I might miss out. Chris won’t travel here because he came here twice in July. It’s my turn. Maybe I can find something fun happening in Vienna. I am not spending the weekend playing World of Warcraft.

In my last post, I wrote about how I made a new friend named Honza and he and I went to the cinema together. He’s new in Prague, so I decided to invite him to dinner with my friends on Saturday. I was sort of thinking that he might be interested in dating Leslie, because she’s fantastic and he's, presumably, single. I didn’t know because we didn’t talk about any of his relationships. He could’ve been gay for all I knew.

So we were a dinner party of 8 people—me and three of my friends along with him and three of his friends. One of his friends was a handsome Slovak guy, and Leslie chatted him up, but I don’t think he had a very good time. He drank a couple of beers, didn’t eat, and left. Meanwhile, Honza was telling me that he didn’t really feel like himself and was really quiet until about 10:30 when we left the restaurant, and I figured we’d all call it a night.

But he perked up at that point and said that it was a bummer for the night to end so early and so I asked if he wanted to go to a pub and get a drink. He said yes. And, of course, I asked Leslie to join us. So the three of us found a spot and had another beer. I tried to encourage a conversation between the two of them and did a lot of nodding and agreeing while they talked. At one point, I went to the bathroom and did my best not to rejoin the conversation, thinking that maybe they were hitting it off.

Unfortunately, we were shooed out of the pub around midnight and Leslie went in one direction while Honza and I went in another. We made it about a block before he took me by the shoulder and stopped me, turned me around, and planted one on me. And then he tried to get me to invite him back to my apartment. Not for sex, he said, but so he could hug me and feel close to me. So that we could sleep in the same bed and touch, but not have sex.

And I about had a panic attack, because I was so uncomfortable and yet I didn’t want to be rude. Christ.

He begged. He actually said “I’m begging you” but I said no, no, no, and when I finally escaped and got home, I had to take a bath because I felt so uncomfortable and gross.

The next day, he called several times and I couldn't bring myself to answer. He texted me a few times as well, saying that I was lovely and that he really likes me and that he hoped he hadn't messed anything up.

And I felt worse in ignoring him, because I imagined myself in his position. I imagined meeting someone I really liked and hitting on that person and then trying to pick up the pieces of the friendship when it didn't work out the way I wanted it to.

Throughout the day, his messages to me grew so much more pathetic that I finally did answer and even agreed to meet him for a drink because he felt the need to explain himself.

I told everything to Chris, who was angry at Honza and then angry at me for allowing him to manipulate me into seeing him. But since I have been just that pathetic before, I had to empathize with him.

Anyway, Honza and I met for a beer at a restaurant not far from my apartment, and he told me that he's really needy and clingy and emotionally repressed. I could tell that he was concentrating on his breathing and trying to relax himself because he was just so nervous.

He told me that he hadn't intended to meet someone who he wanted to date but that I was just so gorgeous and had really knocked him back.

Honestly, it reminded me of meeting David, but I felt on the opposite side--that here was this person who I barely knew who was practically ready to profess his love. I think my initial feelings for David were similarly strong--irrationally strong.

So I saw myself in Honza but still hated the situation that I was in and ended up crying, even though I tried very much to hide it.

Anyway, it was perhaps against my better judgment but I told him that we could still be friends. This was before Chris made me promise never to see him again, because he thought that Honza was going to take advantage of me and rape me or something, but I really think that he's just a very sad person who needs a friend. If Honza falls in love with me, then being around me won't be good for him, but if he doesn't, then I'm a great person to have around.

But...we'll see. I'm thinking about doing a spring cleaning of my circle of friends. Actually, only one person would get booted out of that and that's David. I thought he was sending me one of those god-awful "I don't have time for you now" Facebook messages last night (although it was still asking for a favor), which really irked me because I know he's having a party on Wednesday (I'm not invited, though). But then he sent me another Facebook message shortly after with a suggestion for the next time he and I watch a movie together.

But he should really get booted because that first message made me feel so terrible about myself--I'm good enough to do favors for him and hang out with him when he's got nothing else on, but he doesn't have time at the moment. Right.

I still haven't answered him, because I don't have a clue how to. And maybe I won't. Nothing good comes out of that friendship anyway.

Actually, I don’t even know if I can handle talking to Chris tonight. He makes me feel so bad when I’m not really bubbly and happy. Or, rather, I just feel this pressure to be bubbly and happy because I feel like I have to prove that I’m worth a couple nights a week of his time. And I know that if I don’t act that way, he doesn’t want to be around me. This is fair, because no one wants to be around people who aren’t in good moods, but he’s been my boyfriend for nearly six months, and I still feel like I’m spoiling my chances to be with him if I have a bad day.

It’s like I’m continuously auditioning for the role of his life partner. And if I’m a good, nice person, I’m so in. If I’m crabby or sad or quiet, then he can’t have that, oh no!

Is this even remotely normal?

I once told him that I thought he’d do well with someone who wasn’t as smart as he was but would be delighted to be subordinate and subservient to him—someone who would feel it was her duty to always be cheerful and accommodating. Because people like this exist, and I’m not saying that I wouldn’t benefit from trying to be more cheerful and accommodating. But sometimes I have needs to be met. And when I feel like I do at the moment, I’d much rather he comfort me than get agitated that I’m moody or think I'm trying to manipulate him.

Anyway, I will listen to some upbeat music or a funny podcast on my way home tonight, maybe watch a bit of The Daily Show if I have time for it, or meditate for a few minutes to clear my mind before I go online to talk to him. I must be at my very best.

Lenka, my former chum who unfriended and blocked me on Facebook, called me yesterday. She wanted to know if I had any new mail to deliver to her, i.e., she’s not even going to pretend to be my friend anymore but she still expects things from me. Beautiful.

I was perfectly polite, though, and described for her the one magazine that had arrived, but, no, that wasn’t what she was looking for. So she told me to keep an eye out for something specific.

…Ok, pal!

My appetite has decreased greatly in the past couple of days. I think this may have something to do with the Cymbalta, my new anti-depressant, which I started on Tuesday. Ordinarily, I wouldn’t think it had started working but I’ve been feeling other side effects, like dizziness. My doctor said this should go away in a few days but I hope the appetite suppressant quality sticks around.

Other than that, my life lately has been somewhat dedicated to coping with Chris’ new life changes. Or, rather, to socializing and not spending time with him so he can live his independent life. Tuesday, when he was out with his best friend and best friend’s mistress, I hung out at Caroline’s. Last night, he met his best female friend and her new boyfriend while I went to see a trio of English plays with Leslie.

After we both got in last night, we talked for about an hour on Skype and tonight is an entire evening devoted to us. He said he set the evening aside for me, but I have this feeling that if something social had come up, he would have gone out. Anyway, he’ll go out drinking tomorrow night with his former boss, and then Saturday afternoon, he’s meeting some former coworker for coffee and then he’ll g out with another friend (from that organization, ugh) to go out drinking. Sunday, he’ll meet his best female friend again along with her new boyfriend.

Aaaand, I haven’t a clue what I’m up to, but I’ve asked Kosta, David, and Omar if they want to hang out. Omar is the only one I’ve heard back from (although not with a straight answer), and I have a suspicion that David is busy this Saturday so he’s probably not interested.

Chris said that he has a big chunk of Saturday and all of Sunday (save two hours to go meet briefly with his friends) to chat and game with me, but I’m really not very happy. Not about how much time he’s spent out in the past week, but just about the changes in general. It’s all happened so abruptly. I guess he doesn’t go gradually into things, and that’s unfortunate.

After he went to bed last night, I emailed him and expressed a couple of concerns. He wrote back this morning with plenty of reassurances—not a plethora of them but enough. And he also wrote that when he looks into my eyes, “there is magic.” Which sounds corny to some of you and like a guy who is just trying to placate me to others, but sometimes when he looks at me, I can tell he truly feels that way. And that is why I’m willing to tolerate what seems like it will be a very difficult period of transition. Or at least I will attempt to.

He’s 99% certain that he’ll be able to come to Prague next weekend, and we will have a lovely time like we always do. But I bet the goodbye is harder, because, before, the distance was tough but I had the reassurance of chatting with him pretty much every night. He’s taking that away.

Then again, maybe the goodbye will be easier, because our diminished time together will lead to us growing apart.

A part of me thinks that perhaps he’s going out so much this week because he wants to jump back into the social scene after hibernating for a few months, and it’s possible that he’ll calm this down to only a couple of times a week. If not, though, it really won’t matter if he misses me, like he said he did when he was out on Tuesday. He can miss me all he wants but if he makes no time for me, it doesn’t do much good, does it?

EDIT at 11:40 PM: Chris said tonight that he may go out on only Friday or Saturday night and he wants to spend a large chunk of the weekend with me. He wishes he could come to Prague this weekend but it isn't feasible. However, we'll still have time to talk on Skype and he'll be here next weekend. He also said that no matter what happens, he wants to be with me.

So, now I'm back to wondering if everything that's worrying me is in my head.

Seeing my psychiatrist last night was fantastic. I know now that I really need to make my mental health a priority and work on my issues so that I can function as a normal adult, but sometimes just spewing out my problems to someone makes me feel a lot better.

And this was the case last night. I told my psychiatrist straight away that, although self diagnosis is probably silly, I suspected that I had borderline personality disorder, and then I made my case. I explained my unreasonable attachment to certain people, my jealousy, my picking fights, my extreme emotions. I talked about these impulses that I have and how I can see the destructiveness of them, but I honestly feel like there’s nothing I can do to prevent them.

I spewed and spewed and spewed with him asking the occasional question, and when I was finished explaining all of this, I said, “I know, I’m pretty crazy.”

He smiled nervously and said, “A bit, yes.” He said that I am dependent and obviously suffering from some kind of mood disorder—whether it be depression or bipolar disorder—but he said that I am not borderline. I am too introspective to be borderline, he said, but then added that in the US, they may be more likely to make this diagnosis but, in Europe, they reserve that distinction for someone whose mental state is far worse than mine. I couldn’t tell if he was trying to inform me that I may be a bit borderline because I could be classified as such by US standards or if he was just trying to zing American psychiatrists for over-diagnosing these things. I lean towards the latter.

He also sort of said that he’d never seen anyone quite like me before—that what I described didn’t really fit any one particular thing, but he said that I would benefit from some deep psychoanalysis (which surprised me, frankly, because I thought a sort of everyday, practical counseling was preferable) and that he would be willing to try me on a different medication. I have a new prescription for Cymbalta and will be seeing him in a few weeks to see how it goes over.

Anyway, I was very anxious yesterday, prior to seeing him. Since I knew that Chris was making plans for this week to hang out with at least one of the people from that group I disapprove of, I wrote him this long email where I asked that he just reassure me that seeing these friends didn’t mean that he was reconsidering joining the organization. I wrote that I know he hates that I bring it up at all, but he knows how uncomfortable it makes me and it just eases my mind for him to tell me that associating with these people doesn’t make him one of them. I wrote that I’m trying hard to be comfortable with it, but it will take some time and that surely he knows that some trust was lost when he said he missed them and that I hope for that trust to be regained quickly so that I don’t need these reassurances.

I ended the email with a paragraph that stated that I knew that my asking these things was going to annoy him and that perhaps I shouldn’t send the email at all but I felt it necessary to say these things. And then I asked myself if it were really necessary to share all of my neuroses like that. I wasn’t really saying anything I hadn’t said before or asking for anything that he hadn’t already provided. So why was I going over it again? And then, in a moment of sanity, I decided against sending and being grateful to have actually filtered myself.

We chatted online last night, and it was very lovely. I felt better after having seen my shrink but I still had a bit of anxiety. I did my best to keep it to myself and think I succeeded. For instance, we talked for a bit about the next time we see each other, which should be the weekend of March 13-15. It’s my turn to travel, but I can’t take off any time on the 13 (and I hate taking off on Fridays anyway) so I wouldn’t be able to take a train until Saturday morning. I suggested that he come to me, and he agreed that he wanted to and would look into it, but he has to see since he just started a new job. And then he mentioned how he might want to see his family that weekend so he really wasn't sure.

I gently suggested to him that he travel to see his family this weekend or the weekend following. Actually, the fact that I had to do this is more telling about his sensitivities than mine—he makes such a big deal about being an independent person that I fear that any efforts I make to see him might be construed as attempts to keep him from being an independent person. Because this has happened. Seriously. So I tried to make it clear that I want him to visit his family, but perhaps he could do it at another time, and then he sort of snapped out of it and said, “No, you’re right, you’re right. I would much rather go to Czechia and see you that weekend.”

Anyway, I’m just trying to pull back and my success last night led to him gushing about how wonderful he thinks I am. And then this morning, I had an email waiting for me from him with just general details of his day and his wanting to know how I am. It had been in my inbox for about an hour before I got around to checking my mail so while I was replying to it, he called to see that I am ok and let me know some of his plans.

It’s amazing, really. All I have to do is treat him with kindness and stop my ridiculous jealous behaviors and everything between us works so well. That is, of course, if he doesn’t get involved with that horrible organization again, but that’s another matter altogether. But when I am not so in my head (or when I’m aware that I’m in my head and able to react appropriately), everything between us works beautifully and easily. I really am complicating things and creating problems and I want so badly for it to stop.

I get so scared of losing him that these behaviors get out of control. But I need to rein it in. I just hope that he stays with me while I’m working through all of these things. Maybe I’ll find an appropriate way to explain all of this to him. For now, he knows that I have depression and see a psychiatrist. And he knows that I’m “working on” being a better girlfriend. But it’s pretty vague, and I wonder if he would be more understanding if he better knew what was going on in my head or if he’d run for the hills. Then again, he’s not an idiot and he must know that I get scared of losing him, but has he connected the jealous arguments to this? Maybe my new therapist can opine on what to share with Chris. For now, I’ll just focus on being nice. Easier said than done, though.

I amazingly managed to get an appointment with my psychiatrist tonight. He’s usually booked weeks in advance but I gave him a ring, and he’s open tonight, so I’ll pop by for a half an hour and float my borderline personality disorder hypothesis and see if he wants to change my meds. I’ve been weaning myself off of them lately anyway (gee, Kate, maybe that’s why your anxiety is out of control) and would be open to changing things up.

This could, of course, turn out horribly. The side effects of many of these pills are Not Fun, but I’m imagining him exclaiming triumphantly, “Yes, borderline personality disorder, of course! What you need is this!” and then frantically scribbling a prescription for a Wonder Drug that will make me feel like I’m walking on rainbows.

I’m not even sure what it would mean to walk on a rainbow but it sounds lovely.

Screwing around with my prescriptions may have terrible effects on my social life, my job, my relationship, and my willingness to get out of bed in the morning. But even before I started weaning, I was beginning to feel like my pills weren’t doing all that they used to and so I need to change something. Really, something must be done because I can’t continue to feel the way that I do.

I also made a counseling appointment with a new therapist for next Wednesday morning. This was his earliest availability that worked into my schedule.

Oddly, I was going to comment that I already feel better just by taking the steps to get help, but I just looked at Chris’s Facebook and see that he commented and thumbed up photos added by one of his friends whose influence bothers me. letmeburyem is probably right that I need to write about what this organization is and who these friends are, but not at the moment. At the moment, I’m feeling anxious again that this sole action indicates that he is slowly trying to work his way back into this group.

What’s wrong is that my judgment is so impaired. I really cannot tell what are warning signs and what are normal behaviors that I’m overreacting to. I worry that I’m either going to fuck something up because I’m overly sensitive and reacting to what is essentially nothing or I’m going to get fucked over because all the warning signs are there and I didn’t do anything about them.

I wrote in response to a comment on a previous post that this current situation does not feel entirely unlike what I had with Fouad. It could not have been clearer that he was cheating and using me, and yet I refused to do anything about it. I read the entries that I wrote when Fouad and I were dating and I think, “My God, what an idiot I was.” Will the same thing happen with my current relationship? Or will I feel like an idiot who screwed up a good thing? Or will he and I still be together and I’ll be thinking what a waste of energy this all was?

I love him, and he makes me happy. He also causes me a lot of anxiety and heartache, but I just don’t know if that’s because I’m so screwed up or because it’s actually problematic. I hope that a therapist can help me sort through this mess. I cannot wait to see my psychiatrist tonight.

Edit at 17:39: I reread my entries after I post them, and this line sticks out to me:

I worry that I’m either going to fuck something up because I’m overly sensitive and reacting to what is essentially nothing or I’m going to get fucked over because all the warning signs are there and I didn’t do anything about them.

Just reading that, I realize that I would rather get fucked over than fuck it up. Well, let me explain that. At least if I get fucked over, I realize that there was nothing that I could've done to save it but at least I gave it my best effort. If I dump him because I fear that he's changing back into someone who I don't think I would like, I would be doing so prematurely. If he loves me and wants to be with me and he makes me happy, then I should ride it out.

He may go back into this organization and he may turn into someone who I cannot love or even stand to be around. Then I should break up with him. But to do so before in an attempt to shelter myself from pain I may never experience is foolish.

The only two people to opine on this situation have told me that I should dump him, but they neglect to see how much in love I am. And how happy I am when he and I are together. The anxiety is in my head; until he does something outrageous, I need to relax.

Dan unfriended me on Facebook. We argued a few weeks ago about a Guantanamo-related article that I posted on my profile, but I thought we resolved the matter. He did, however, say in the middle of the argument that he feels like I’m very nice to his face but mocking the things that are important to him behind his back—things like the Republican party. Nothing has changed in the past few weeks, but maybe he decided that I was more trouble than I was worth.

Another possibility is that his wife was jealous—not just of his friendship with me but with lots and lots of women that he’s added because he gets into these game applications and adds a bunch of people that he meets through them. Some of the women get a bit flirtatious in the messages they leave on his profile, and his wife may have put her foot down about them, causing him to unfriend all female acquaintances that she didn’t approve of. I’m basing this hypothesis, in part, on the fact that he and I used to have a few female friends in common but now we only have two common friends—both male. So I may not have been the only one to get the boot.

Regardless, this is getting old. I don’t care very much when someone who I barely know unfriends me. Likewise, I have had at least two males who courted me and then took me out on lousy dates unfriend me when things didn’t work out between us. Although it still stings a bit to have that blatant rejection, I understand it. But someone like Dan? Completely unexpected.

On another subject, my anxiety is out of control right now. I have contacted a new therapist—one who hopefully has more time for me in his schedule than the one I was seeing. Actually, this one has a PhD and I think I may try seeing him for both counseling and medication if it works out [Edit: I'm an idiot. PhDs can't prescribe medication.]. He sees clients until 9 pm, so that looks very promising.

I’m also back on social contact as therapy. So after I took Chris to the train station on Saturday evening, I went out with Caroline, Jirka, and Leslie and had a great time. We went to a pub and ended up having a singing contest with a nearby table. It was fantastic. And then yesterday I went to the hash for the first time in ages. That was also quite enjoyable.

But part of the anxiety is caused by Chris. He keeps changing or, at least, expressing a need for change. Today he started his third job in the five and a half months that we’ve dated. And while you’d think that shouldn’t affect me, it really does. Where he is all day affects his mood and demeanor when we interact. Plus he’s supposed to do a bit of traveling for this job, which certainly could lead to big changes. And, at the very least, I got spoiled by his ability to email me extremely frequently at his last job—especially after he quit and wasn’t as engaged in the work.

He branded yesterday as some kind of rebirth for him. It was the first of the month and his first day where he was no longer an employee of his previous company. Ordinarily, on a Sunday, he would have logged onto World of Warcraft as soon as he got up, but he decided that yesterday he would not do that because he wants this to change. And I partially think that he was just getting himself mentally prepared for his new job (which is also why he didn’t stay the full weekend with me; he needed some time to himself) and that things will go back to normal, and I partially admire him for trying to make his life better and more productive.

Anyway, he instead was listening to music and reading some things online. He also downloaded Rosetta Stone for me so I can use it to work on my German. I was happy about this but worried—worried that he will actually change and that that will lead to problems in our relationship.

The thing that concerns me the most is something I have never written about here and have really not spoken about with others. But he used to be active in an organization that I rather profoundly object to. He made a lot of his current friends through this organization, and, although I have met a few of them and think they are perfectly nice people, I’m a bit wary of them and their influence on Chris. (I keep wishing that he’d get active in music again or join the Free Thinkers/atheist group that he used to be with and make friends through these organizations; I’m even going to take him to a hash the next time I’m in Vienna, which is a move to show that I don’t object to him having his own life and spending time with friends; I just get nervous about these particular people).

Anyway, during a recent argument, he told me that he wants to get involved with this group again. After the argument, he implied that he only said that because he knew it’d make me upset and he was so angry that, essentially, he wanted to hurt me. And he said that he may not find it necessary to rejoin this organization after all. But he’s making plans for this evening and tomorrow, and I think he’ll be hanging out with these same friends with their fucked up ideologies. And while he’s said that he will not rejoin this group without at least letting me know first, I’m scared that he might sneak in the back door.

I realize this topic loses most of its impact if I don’t tell you what this group is, but I explained a bit about it to Caroline, and I think she lost all respect for him. And so if he never rejoins, it's not an issue and I don’t want to taint him in all of your minds.

The bigger picture here is that I don’t know how many of these concerns are legitimate and how many of them are me making mountains out of molehills. Will hanging out with these people serve as a gateway for him to reenter this community? And if he did reenter, does that mean we can’t be together? Where does the threat start? The friends? The organization? His intentions? Do I trust him that this desire doesn't exist and was only claimed out of anger? Or does he honestly miss it and wish to go back? And if that’s the case, can we ever be happy together? If he longs for something that I don’t think I can tolerate, it’s only a matter of time before we break up, isn’t it?

But again, how much of this is in my crazy head? To the therapist, I must go!

This week is flying by. I feel like it was only yesterday that I was putting Chris on the train to Vienna; in a week, I could be preparing to go there myself.

Except that I don’t think I’m going to Vienna next weekend.

I’m not sure if Chris and I had the conversation about the future that he had envisioned and prepped me for but we did discuss two items about our future together.

The first relates to next weekend. Since he is about to change jobs, he thought that his company might give him paid leave to eat up the rest of his time there, or at least a couple of weeks of it. And so he said he’d like to spend those weeks here in Prague—me going to work and him staying home in my apartment, doing his own thing.

He said that he wants to spend more time together, and this is one way that it will happen: a couple weeks together at the end of February.

…But this isn’t quite accurate anymore. He has gotten the impression in the last few days at work that he will not be given paid leave. He does, however, have four remaining vacation days, and so he would spend those here in Prague. He will try to squeak out one extra day to make it a full week, and that is that.

So, rather than have me go to Vienna this week and then endure 3.5 weeks until he comes to stay with me at the end of February, we are considering breaking that time in half—something like 3 weeks apart and then 2.5. I’m not a huge fan of it, but it makes a lot of sense, and with this week flying by, it doesn’t feel like as long of a wait.

The other item was what I predicted, but I was expecting some sort of plan that would keep me in Europe. Instead, he said to me, “Katie Baby, I don’t want you to go back to the US. Please don’t leave me.” And he told me that I am now a part of him—a feeling he’s never before had so quickly with someone and the thought of losing me hurt him a lot. He held me close to him as he was saying this and I felt loved and protected.

Indeed, last weekend was very nice. I felt very anxious when it was time to take him to the train station but I felt better within an hour of seeing him depart. In the time right before I had to take him, though, I was so sad and so worried that my feelings from our last parting would return that I texted Caroline to see if she wanted to hang out and emailed my mom to see if we could have a Skype call.

On Tuesday, Chris planned to go out with his best friend (it didn’t happen because he was sick) and this would have been the first evening in a very long time during which I would have been alone. No plans with any friends, no Skype call with Chris. And so I started a desperate scheme to insure that I wouldn’t have to be alone. I asked David, Caroline, and even Kosta—the first time since August—if they were free. In the end, I hung out at Caroline’s and watched the inauguration and then went home and Skyped with Chris. But Kosta called that evening and we’re planning to get together next week.

Getting back in touch with Kosta brings up a question that I have struggled with for years: is a bad friend better than no friend? Welcoming David and now Kosta back into my life, I’m inclined to say yes. And I know that no one will sympathize with me when things turn sour, but I don’t want to think that far ahead.

I feel remarkably better. Chris missed work the last two days because he is sick with symptoms that sound quite similar to mine. I wonder if we somehow had the same thing and it took a couple of days before we saw signs.

Either that or coincidental stomach flu.

Had he not gotten sick (and had I not eaten that questionable sandwich), I would have assumed that I made myself sick with anxiety. And while it may not be true, it probably contributed, and that's rather scary.

So I've once again made an appointment with a counselor and am making more plans with friends so that I don't isolate myself or get too wrapped up in my relationship.

In a somewhat related note, I think I might buy some new furniture. Mostly I want to do this because my office just had some furniture delivered today and I got all excited about the idea, but also, my apartment is so empty. Maybe if it felt a bit more like a home, it wouldn't be so hard to be there. Alone.

I just hope it has some positive effect and doesn't just end with me acquiring a bunch of crap that I really don't need.

I wasn’t able to fall asleep last night until nearly 5 AM, and, while I think there are several culprits for that (I’m looking at you, instant coffee), it was primarily because of Chris’ birthday. Oh, stress.

Chris is 30 today. He will arrive in Prague tomorrow, and I’ll take him out for dinner and drinks. On Saturday, we have reserved a karaoke box, i.e., a small room where 6-8 of us will gather for a couple of hours to belt out our favorite songs. And then there will be dinner and more drinks and general celebratory things.

…And I am nervous about all of this! I still haven’t bought him a present, because I can’t come up with a good idea. I am hoping to remedy this during my lunch today, but it’s not a done deal. Plus I am hoping that the karaoke will be fun but it could suck for a number of reasons.

It’s much deeper than this, though, surely. Last night, he and I talked briefly about what it means for him to turn 30, and he told me that he has been thinking about it for the past few days and he needs to make some changes in his life. He went on to say that these changes have nothing to do with our relationship—they will either have neutral or positive effects on our relationship. And he also said something about how he thinks it’s meaningful that I was the first person to wish him a happy 30th, that it’s great (but not that word, exactly) that he’s starting this new phase of his life with me.

But I felt concerned for some reason. It may have to do with some other things he said, like about how he chose to give up something in order to date me, and how he missed it for a while but doesn’t miss it now. However, he needs to fill that part of his life with something. And it’s not that I mind him filling that part of his life. He should, and it shouldn’t be with me. I mean, he needs other things in his life to satisfy himself, and I know he’s fully capable of finding those things.

But maybe it’s because I’m a romantic, and I don’t like thinking that, earlier in our relationship, he was missing this old life and not feeling completely fulfilled by me. Whatever it is, it’s stupid of me, and I know it, but I can’t shake it.

There is also this odd somber tone as we head into this weekend together, and that’s not something I’ve ever felt before spending time with him. Usually I’m bouncing off the walls in anticipation and cannot wait to see him. I’m guessing that my hesitation this weekend is due to my anxiety about giving him a good birthday weekend. It’s a lot of responsibility, and I’ll feel bad if I fuck it up, because 30 is a big one.

I think that, also, we haven’t completely gotten rid of our baggage from Monday night’s argument. My wounds are not completely healed (let's see how many cliches I can throw out in a single paragraph), and, while he stressed that we need to communicate better regarding these things, I feel whiny bringing anything up. That was another complaint that he had on Monday. He thinks that I’m whiny and that I worry unnecessarily. So, on the one hand, I’m supposed to tell him when things are bothering me so we can fix them, but voicing concerns can be irritating to him. If he’s in the right mood, he will laugh and say, “Oh, Katie, you are so sweet,” and launch into a diatribe about how amazing things are with us and how I have nothing to worry about. If he’s in the wrong mood, he will sigh and roll his eyes, and, presumably, resent me for a short while.

We could talk about these things this weekend. But it’s his birthday celebration, and I don’t want to be a buzzkill.

I basically feel like this weekend will make or break our relationship. If we have a great time, a lot of my worries will be put to rest. If it’s shit, well, so much for that.

But I know it’s not that simple. I think I am still capable of enjoying my time with him and still having these fleeting thoughts of discontent. Really, he and I need to have a frank discussion. I will try to shelve everything until Sunday.

Last night, after a glass of milk, some fluff television, soothing music, and a bath, I finally relaxed to the thoughts that I don’t have to fix this. It’s hard enough being responsible for my own happiness; I don’t want the weight of someone else’s on my back. As much as I adore Chris, if he can’t handle that I can be content in a quiet, mellow state and that I am not prone to bouts of giggling ecstasy, well, we probably aren’t going to work out together. Even his will power and my love can’t fix that.

My weekend in Vienna was great, except I didn't tell Chris that I love him (which, by the way, I totally do).

Chris and I have been talking a lot about love--about love songs that we have for each other, about how he doesn't find it necessary to always say "I love you" but instead to show it, and other mushy things.

Plus he told me that I'm one of the most amazing people he's ever met, that he's always wanted a girlfriend like me, and that he wished I would stay with him forever (as in, not go back to Prague, because we have a lot of fun together).

In a nutshell, he seems to think quite highly of me.

[EDIT at 3:46 PM: I'm rereading this and it sounds so stupid because I'm imagining Chris reading it and my feelings and observations sound so juvenile. But I'm trying to simplify strong feelings into a few paragraphs and it's difficult.]

Unfortunately, he also said this: "I think you are amazing, Katie, and I love you."

Well, that's not the unfortunate part. What's unfortunate is that we weren't even looking at each other, and so he didn't even get to see if I reacted in the beat before he corrected what he said to this: "I like you."

And so I lost my nerve.

I asked him again last night what he feels about me, and he said that he likes me, and then he changed that to say that what he feels for me is "a bit more than like."

Now I said before that I know he'll never be the first to say it, but it does make me wonder if I'm jumping the gun. The easiest thing, obviously, would be to just wait a bit longer.

And yet I feel so anxious (and this entry might sound quite choppy because I'm having trouble holding a complete thought in my head because I'm so anxious at the moment) and I wonder if getting it out there would make me feel better. An email is cowardly but I think it would relax me.

I went to see a meditative art therapist yesterday. I liked the therapy and the idea of the meditation, but I could’ve done without the art.

The therapist--a 50ish American woman-- talked with me for about 45 minutes about my circus of a life, and she was warm and receptive. Then we moved on to the meditation, and she turned on some music and had me close my eyes. She read to me off of a piece of paper about a ball of energy at the base of my spine. This wasn’t what I was expecting from the meditation—I thought I’d be imagining myself lying on a beach or something relaxing, not some cuckoo new age baloney.

Anyway, I tried to go along with it, but it was hard for me, especially because she sounded like she was reading and going much too fast for me to visualize my energy balls moving around and all that shit.

Then she whipped out some crayons and a piece of paper and told me to draw my energy experience, so I drew a peach-colored stick person with spirals of purple, blue, and green all over my body, except for my hands and the top of my head, which had sparklers of purple shooting out of them. I showed my drawing to her, and she seemed satisfied. She told me that purple is the color of transition, which is certainly fitting.

I made another appointment to see her next week, and I may ask her if we can bypass the coloring. My homework is to make a list of things that “excite” me. My first thought was to make a list of different foods, because, really, just saying “food” doesn’t allow me to explain the different emotions I feel in regards to lasagna, brownies, and Frosted Mini Wheats. Plus, if she thinks this could be made into something productive, like a cooking class, it’s important to note just how happy fast food makes me and that is not something I can replicate in my kitchen.

I intend to see my thieving ex-landlord tonight. Considering that his SMS to me was written in Czech (and all of our previous communications have been in English), I’m expecting him to be even more difficult than previously thought. I may arrive with a pack of scary Arab men who can rough him up if it doesn’t go well. (Kidding! But I do want Fouad with me if only because the anxiety of this is already too much to bear. And, no, Fouad and I are not back together.)

I called Dirk on Sunday and we talked for four and a half hours, partly because I haven't talked to him in so long but largely because he is the chattiest man in the history of the universe. I'm not complaining--it was very nice--but I refuse the blame for keeping him up until 1:30 in the morning, especially when I told him we should probably hang up or he'd regret it at 5 in the morning, when he gets up for work.

Strangely, though, I think I got less sleep than he did. I just couldn't turn off my brain and kept thinking, thinking, thinking about such random, pointless shit. It was basically a repeat of so many nights in junior high when I'd try to list all the countries of the world alphabetically or list every cast member from "The Real World." This is my version of counting sheep, but it doesn't really work because these kinds of things just make me more alert and potentially frustrated when the names of so many West African nations elude me.

By the time I was in college, I managed to develop a kind of meditative, calming image in order to fall asleep at night (sans medication, of course). I would imagine myself submerged in a swimming pool--no sound, no sights, just floating.

But then I saw The Piano and the final scene ruined my calming image forever.

So I think I got, at most, two hours of sleep Sunday night, and I tried to fix this last night, by going to bed before 10. But then Fouad called me from work around midnight, and that kept me up until well past 4. I finally resorted to a Klonopin to fall back asleep but Fouad woke me again at 5 because he was off work and in need of attention.

It was actually kind of sweet, and I enjoyed talking to him for an hour or so before going to sleep.

And the next thing I remember is my new boss calling me, because I was late to work.

Lovely.

I was so embarrassed and apologetic when I arrived. Everyone was nice about it, but I know how bad it looked, and I am now desperate for a new alarm clock. In a nutshell, using my cellphone for this purpose finally caught up with me, because the "snooze" button is the same size and shape as the "off" button, and they are touching. It's a wonder I've not done this before, and I am now afraid that it'll happen again.

Hopefully I can find a new clock soon--I just don't know of anything convenient or else I would've picked one up today. To supplement my cellphone for tomorrow, I set the alarm on my iPod, which I know is complete shit, but it's better than nothing. Maybe I can also find some kind of call service or something on my computer. If you know of anything, please let me know. And I'll try to get some rest.

Monday, just as we were about to serve Caroline's birthday cake (store-bought, because I am a bad friend who doesn't bake), my phone rang. It was my grandma, and she told me that my grandpa's health is extremely poor and almost certainly not going to improve. She wanted me to know that when the funeral arrives, I shouldn't feel obligated to go home for it.

Now, I know that we're all going to die at some point, but the certainty in her voice really bothered me. She was certain that he will die soon, and I find that horrifying.

Of course, all news in relation to my grandpa has become so grim that I've nearly come to terms with this certainty myself. This news--in the form of increasingly depressing health updates from my mom--coupled with the fact that my family nearly neglected to tell me about the last two deaths in my family so as not to disturb me, has influenced my decision to begin checking the obituaries in my hometown newspaper.

In other words, I don't trust them to let me know. When I was a sophomore in college, they almost didn't tell me about the death of an uncle with whom I wasn't even close, so why would they tell me that my grandfather died when they know I would have difficulty making the funeral? Waiting for a more appropriate time to tell me would relieve me of the stress I'd surely have in deciding to take off time from work and pay a thousand dollars to go home for three or four days.

I understand their reasoning in this, but, if something happens to my grandpa, I want to know immediately. And I think that my grandma's phone call is an indication that I will know as soon as possible.

Still, the phone call from my grandma has taken quite a toll on my body. Prior to the call, I had nearly three days where I was able to eat normally but Monday evening, I was so stressed that my body was rejecting food again. I decided to avoid eating yesterday, as much as possible. I halved a granola bar and ate one half for breakfast and the other for lunch. At dinner, I managed a few bites of mashed potatoes.

I also took two Klonopin to combat the stress, but then I was so tired that I gave in and had some coffee at work. This led to horrible cramping, as you might imagine, and I wanted desperately to go home early but that would look terrible on week two.

Anyway, I decided about 90 minutes ago to get rid of one giant stress in my life: Fouad. The plan is/was to dump him tonight, but I'm already thinking that I'd much rather put it off another day or two. We'll see.

I haven't been posting much lately, in part, because I started my new job on Monday, but largely because I've been sick. I finally realized last night that the sickness is stress-induced (or stress-exacerbated).

I think I need to have a really good cry to let out some of the emotions that I'm bottling up, and I almost managed it earlier this evening. My mom has been sending me updates on my grandpa's health. Two days ago, the news was that he has been placed in the "long term care" unit of the hospital. Today she told me that when she went to see him, he was crying, because he's tired of the constant hospital visits.

(I've decided not to document a lot of these visits over the past several months because I personally don't enjoy reading about the health of someone else's seemingly distant relative--it always seems like comment whoring to me. And I hate explaining how close I am to my grandparents--that I saw them daily when I was growing up, and it was really hard to see my grandpa this past August because it looked like he had aged a decade since last winter. But there. Now you know.)

Anyway, I cannot imagine my grandpa crying, because it was something I never saw in the 18 years that I saw him every day and in the seven years since. It makes me ill to imagine him looking so vulnerable and defeated. But I choked back all of my tears because Fouad was here, and I didn't want to talk about it with him.

I am also stressed about my health insurance, about my overpriced rent, and about my (presumably) unfaithful boyfriend. I'm stressed about my new job--not because the work is stressful but because big new situations like that take a tremendous toll on me. I'm stressed about my friendship with Leon and even felt homesick for him, the guinea pigs, and our home in California. He knows this; we had a Skype video call, and I bawled and expressed regret, after which he told me that he finally feels single now.

Last but not least, my stress-induced illness has made me stressed, because I wonder when it will go away. I can't eat. My sleep is disturbed. I am in a lot of physical pain--the kind that justifies sick leave but, of course, I couldn't possibly take a sick day during my first week of work.

I think that I just need rest, but Caroline's birthday party is this weekend, and that also stresses me out a bit. The last time that Caroline got drunk in my (and Jirka's) presence, she got so upset about having such shitty birthdays in the past that she cried, set a quota for the number of party attendees, made specifications for a type of cake that is not commercially available in Prague (and neither Jirka nor I bake), and jokingly let me know that she's expecting a pretty damn good gift from me because Jirka won't be paid in time to buy her anything for her party. And, of course, I don't know what I'm giving her.

Caroline took most if not all of these requirements back when she was sober, but she won't be sober at her party, so I can't expect complete rationality.

(And, by the way, I love Caroline, so I'm not complaining and I ready don't mind it, although it does fall at a pretty inopportune time.)

Anyway, this isn't helping matters. I need to rest.

I arrived twenty minutes early for my second round interview, looked up at the building, and wished I had taken a Klonopin. I managed without.

The whole thing took about 40 minutes, in which I answered more questions, took a small test to prove I am capable of doing what the job requires, and met with the other people in the office. They seemed like incredibly nice people, and I think I would enjoy working with them and doing this job.

That said, I noticed that about three or four times, I made the most ridiculous error in the way I answered questions. The error was that I kept emphasizing the negative instead of the positive.

For instance, the interviewer said something to me about how this position will involve some management of another person and the whole of the publishing analysis group. He knows from my CV that I don't have management experience, to which I should respond something like, "I have never officially been in a management position, but my previous job involved taking responsibility for certain projects and organizing things for my team." Or something.

But what I did was flip the sentence around, so that I said, "Well, previously I took responsibility for certain projects, but, yeah..." Yeah, I don't have any management experience. You got me there! God. Idiot!

So how do I think it went? I think it went fairly well, but not as well as I would have liked. If there's another candidate who looks as good as I do on paper, I'm sure he/she will have had a better interview and nail the position. I hope that isn't the case. Or that I'm being too hard on myself.

Leon's sister Ruth is getting married on Sunday in Tennessee. I will be there. I'm flying on Friday, through Brussels and Atlanta. It will take nearly 17 hours, plus the two hours of security and airport hassles I'll have in Prague.

I probably don't have a window seat, which means I probably won't sleep. Which means I will likely be irritable. And then I get to explain to Leon's family the function of my trip to Europe and what I've been doing for the past three months. This makes me feel incredibly anxious.

That's not to say that I don't want to go. I really like Ruth a lot, and I haven't been to a wedding since my own, so it'll be interesting to once again see one from the other side. Plus, when the wedding is over, I'm heading to my hometown in Illinois to see my family (more explanations, surely), who I haven't seen since Christmas.

Seeing my niece and nephew should be wonderful, and I'm really looking forward to it.

But I don't want to explain myself to anyone right now. Which is why I don't miss my therapist. And which is why I have omitted a lot of things from this journal.

Why am I in Prague? Why did I come here? I'm not sure I have good answers for these questions. But I do feel quite a bit better than I did three months ago, if that counts for anything.

And after I go to Tennessee, to Illinois, and home to California, I plan to come back here, because I'm not finished. The assumption was that I would be ready to return to normal life at the same time as the wedding. But I'm not. I don't know what the longterm implications of this are but I'm not going to speculate or try to explain.

My psychiatrist called me this morning, but not to make sure that all is well with me on the day before I embark on a nearly 6000 mile trip. No, she wanted me to know that she has not yet received my $300 payment for last week's visit. Okie dokie!

So, about two weeks ago, I was talking to my therapist Karen (note: not my psychiatrist as she doesn't have an MD) and we were talking about my impending trip to Prague. She was asking me what I expected to get out of it and I told her that I expected to feel a lot of the same things that I do here--the perpetual emptiness and fatigue. I went on to explain to her exactly what this was like.

I said that I often feel like I don't want to do anything but sleep, and that's not to say that I don't want to do the dishes or pay the bills or go to work. That's a given. But I also don't desire to do completely (or at least relatively) passive activities that are normally enjoyable to me. I don't want to watch television, listen to music, or play a computer game. I actually don't have the energy to sit in front of the television and stare at it and even thinking about doing this makes me feel tired. And so if I can, I sleep. If I could, I might sleep 16-20 hours a day, I told her.

Karen told me that it sounded like I have a Serotonin deficiency and that I should be on an anti-depressant. I told her that I am and she suggested that maybe I'm taking the wrong medication or the wrong dosage.

This really blew my mind. You'd think that after seeing this therapist for nearly a year, I would have described my depression to her in those terms and that she would have asked about medication. But no. We'd been focused on so many other things that it never came up. And because I felt better after I started taking a combination of Paxil and Wellbutrin nearly four years ago, I didn't suspect that there was anything wrong.

When I told this to Leon, he more or less said, "Duh!" Well, I wish he would have told me that months ago!

Unfortunately, Karen can't prescribe medication and my regular doctor, who writes out my Paxil and Wellbutrin prescriptions, shouldn't be the one who changes the doses. That should be done by a psychiatrist and getting in to see a psychiatrist with only two weeks to go before my trip would ordinarily be difficult (read: impossible), so my therapist suggested a colleague. The only catch was that this woman doesn't take regular insurance and the cost to see her is $300 out of pocket (and some additional $120 fee later on).

Now I find that pretty damn sketchy. I realize that I can file a claim to have my insurance cover the cost, but it boggles my mind that someone in the mental health profession would make seeing them more difficult than it otherwise would be.

Out of desperation, though, I saw her. She had me get my blood checked to see if I have anemia or a thyroid problem (nope, neither) and she doubled my Wellbutrin dosage.

And now that I'm taking two Wellbutrin a day, I can honestly say that I feel noticeably less tired. But that could also be due to anxiety over my trip, as excessive anxiety often makes me lose sleep.

It is a bit of a problem that I'm making so many drastic changes in my life right now so it could happen that, if I find happiness in Prague, I ascribe that happiness to the wrong thing. For instance, is it the new location? The medication? Being around my best friend? Not having a regular job? Freelancing or whatever else I do to pay the bills? The lack of Leon?

Changing medication on top of all my other changes could cause more confusion than there already is, but I can't dwell on that right now--I have a $300 check to write.