I surrender.

*Waves the white flag*

Alright, I've had enough. If I"m ever going to get past the cloud of drama that seems to follow me everywhere, 2 things are going to have to happen starting right friggin now:

1) I'm going to see my doc's replacement doc to get a perscription for Celexa. Or something. Anything. This is getting rediculous.

2) NO MORE MEN. No more relationships, no more casual dates, no more "let's just go for a drink and hang out"'s. None of it. I"m done. Not saying I"m turning to the other team, mind you, because women are insane. No, no...I"m just putting any chance of anything happening in my romantic life on the farthest back-back burner until... Well, until I"m mature enough to handle it. Or THEY"RE Mature enough to handle it.

Or someone invents idiot repellant. It could happen.

Part of the reason I"m so adamant about point 2 being a priority stems from a casual "lets go have drinks before you leave town again" thing with an old friend. An old friend whom I've got a few things in common with, and whom I like to talk to about these things. An old friend who used to be medicated...

Anyways, the whole disasterous night not only turned me off of all bipeds with a Y-chromosome, but also made me question my career choice. Which, of course, is exactly what I need. I mean, though the doctors he's seeing aparently haven't noticed yet, he's obviously bipolar, and he's obviously rapid-cycle: He went from too snuggly and giddy to yelling at me and calling me a tease in less than 10 minutes. And if I ever hear the line "Come on, it's my birthday on Monday" again, I'll kill someone. Likely the person using that particular line. But all that aside; now that I've seen Bipolar disorder and alcoholism all rolled into one up-close and personal, I don't know if I can actually handle it. I would imagine that a career-type situation would be different because it would be a professional, objective situation, but it still makes me nervous.

Not to mention the other matter of how well we did understand eachother before we started drinking. We would both go off on tangents, start in one place, and end in the middle of a thought somewhere miles away from where we started. And it didn't matter that half the time we didn't think in complete thoughts. In a way, I could look at him and see myself at 30, 35, maybe 40... And I don't want to be like that. I don't want to hurt people around me and not know that I'm doing it.

So that's what lead to the Celexa. Actually, Mom found out that there's a group of people (over 1000, actually), who have filed a class-action lawsuit against Effexor (rather, the company who makes it), because the literature the company produces lists only a few of the milder withdrawl effects. If I had known before I went on Effexor that, should I have to come off it, there is a risk of developing permanent dependance on the drug, or that the withdrawl can be deadly if done too quickly, or there's a Black Box warning on Effexor (meaning that it has been proven to actually increase your risk of self-harm and suicide while on the medication), I might have looked for an alternative. Scary part? The guy I was talking about earlier had been on Effexor before the Welbutrin he was on last. He said that he's been off it for years now, and he Still gets withdrawl simptoms from it; bizzarre dreams and dizziness and such.

So, yeah. Right now, I'm not a terribly happy person. I just want to stay home all this week and forget about the outside world, but I need to go to work. Real people go to work. You can't just lie on the couch all day, so I'm not.

I'm really starting to hate this.