I Just Wish I Had More Strength

Before I begin, I must prelude this entry with a quick foray into my past couple of months. I guess I must start by saying there is an obvious pattern in my life: Odd number years are terrible and even number years are wonderful. I don't know why this is, but it has been the pattern throughout my life. Every awful breakup I have had has been in an odd number year, I learned of my father's illness during an odd number year, I have almost failed out of medical school in an odd number year, I was diagnosed with MDD in an odd number year and a whole slew of awful events have taken place in odd number years. Even number years are good, I fell in love during an even number year, bought my first puppy an even number year, graduated an even number year, got accepted into medical school an even number year, I remember the first time I felt truly happy was during an even number year. At this point, even I cannot dismiss this evidence as sheer coincidence. So here we are during an even number year and the start of this blog is proof enough that this hasn't been the best of years.

I remember the moment the year began. It was the first time I had never celebrated New Years Eve. I was in the car with C (who has never enjoyed ringing in the New Year) coming back to his house from a terrible movie. We were driving down this unlit road and I kept staring at the clock until it turned to 12:00. I waited about 30 seconds and when it was clear that C absolutely did not care it was the new year, I wish him a happy one and with nothing more than a wave of his hand he wished me the same. No kiss, no thrill, not even a smile. I should have seen this as a sign, but I didn't. I was just happy that I was sitting next to the man I loved and happy that I could bring in this holiday with him, no matter how pathetic it was. I looked up and I could see the stars through the window and I remember just exhaling and leaning back into my seat. I was actually content and happy that I was going home to spend my night and year with him. At the very same moment, C was realizing how happy he was having me there too, but instead of relishing the moment and trying to enjoy it while he could, a seed was planted in his mind. He was miserable without me there and upset that he couldn't have me at his side every night; so the only logical thing to do (in his mind) was break up with me and try to find someone in his area. He still has not found said person and remains single.

He is partly single because of my own doing. It seems like the moment he broke up with me, he realized what he was losing and wasn't ready to give it up. C decided that he was going to come up to Pittsburgh and visit me. And like a fool, I let him and that is all my fault. To make a long story short (or even as a set up for a future blog) he came here and we had a wonderful time together. I am almost shamed to admit it. I set myself up for weeks, telling myself that I would be completely platonic with him. He would come here and I wouldn't give myself so freely and he would see what he was missing and realize that it is only worth it for him to want to be by my side. I felt such confusion when I caved. More than anything I wanted to be strong and not fall victim to his touch and I couldn't do that. I was so happy that we were together again and happy with each other and at the same time, I was so sad that I was not strong enough to "stick to my guns." The week went by and I felt confused and used yet terribly in love again. I wish I had still kept up with my blog at the time, so I could have gone back to these entries and remember how much I hurt I felt and how much I have overcome since my first teary entry. I just wish I had more strength.

So here I am, several months after his visit and I am still confused. I love C. I love him for all of the memories he gave, for the convictions we share, for his hopes and dreams and even for the confused soul that lives within him. Yet, I don't think I am in love with him anymore. As each day passes, I find myself growing more irritable with him and I feel my frustration increasing. I am not sure if it is a side effect of the depression or not but I know that a part of him that used to love him is gone and will never come back. Too much has happened to me to ever go back to the young girl that once fell head over heels for anyone. It is a sad part of growing up to understand that you have lost your innocence and be at peace with it. I might love C again one day and a part of me hopes that will happen. Not to fear though, an even greater part of me hopes that I will overcome this hold that C has on me and soon I will be able to develop into a wonderful person who is open to new people and experiences in her life. Mostly, I just can't wait for another even year.

Life gets in the way

My thoughts keep me sane. The sheer fact that I haven't had the time or the energy to continue keeping up with them on here has really been a complete shame. The past couple of months has been the hardest, most challenging and self-reflecting period of my life. It is amazing how things such as life maintenance, reflection and personal relationships take a back seat in medical school. With my year wrapping up, I cannot wait to step back and begin writing again. I hope to get a better view over what has been happening to me and share them on this space. I am my most vulnerable and honest when I am clicking away at this keyboard and I think it is time to come back. I just hope and pray everyday that I am strong enough to be open and honest with myself and get through these hard times. Besides, I can't wait to feel happy and at peace again and that time is coming.