When Ely met Izzy met Sid

So it's true I'm a neurotic overly-anxious, potentially crazy, excessively private girl from a pseudo-hood and I've got  multiple personalities.

Things are not good. I'm like "fuck this" - throw my hands in the air, let's just be honest for a second.

I am an incredibly wasted person right now. The truth is and this is truly, truly the truth of the matter: My situation is desperate ... I feel like I'm going nowhere. I feel like I have no future. I'm literally driving around town stuffing my face with a nasty shit brownie cookie from the gas station and chugging skim milk from a half pint bottle. At least I have that - I am drinking skim milk. But honestly, this day has been symbolic of what my life has become.

I was on a dvt-inducing six hours train ride from Boston. Before I reached Philly I called a taxi. Okay I lied, I got an uberX not a taxi...because I have a fucking problem trying to always get personalized customized bitch ass people who are willing to be my personal assistants. What I need is a goddamn indentured servant. That's right I said it. Equality is not my luxury.

I get into the UberX... the guy is middle-aged but he's hot and that's all I thought. That's the extent of my thought. He is also kind of aggressive. So naturally - as I attract the weirdos of this goddamn society - he starts, you know, chatting. 

But I definitely egged him on by venting about my own issues. First, I asked him about how much he gets paid...inappropriate, I know. Then, I told him I quit my job and I still can't believe I did. He asked me what I did. I was like "oh I'm you know a resident... Like a doctor but in training ." 

I know what that sounds like to the rest of the world, I do. Forgive me for sounding god damn conceited but it feels like a million bucks saying, "Oh I'm a doctor." And yet it's all a goddamn act. It's just a mirage. I have no money, I'm in a sick amount of debt. I hate my job. Most nights, I am suicidal. The thought, the mere thought of returning to work gives me so much anxiety and fear of my potential for suicidal ideation ... that I just want to jump off a goddamn bridge. 

So anyway I tell him I am a doctor and I quit my job and he goes off on me. He tells me "you got to go back. You're making a huge mistake! What could you possibly do that pays better than being a doctor?" He says my misery and suffering are short-lived, I should push through.

I just can't express what it is I'm going through to other people. It wouldn't be fair for me to expect them to really understand. Who will help me through this I don't know. 

So this guy quickly gets to the topic of his life and why he's strongly telling me to go back to work. He says he's 55 and he's been through it all, he's been through the ringer twice. And he knows something about what it takes to survive in this world. I stared waiting for an explanation...so he continued "I'm 55 years old, catholic, twice divorced, recovering alcoholic and I got three children I've got to take care of." God damn, life just got real, huh? I don't have any children...in fact, I don't have anyone, actually. He asks me who I've got. I must have someone - I must have a guy, a boyfriend, fiancé, husband. 

"No I am single. I am very much single." 

He thinks this is an invitation perhaps? So I back off. I become reserved. I tell him "I'm not that girl. I can't give you anything."

He offers to take me out to dinner. Then he begs. He begs me to go to dinner with him. You know - in  the desperate place I am in right now, I had no good reason to say no. So I gave him my number and I said "hell let's do it."

He texts me, he calls me on the dot when he said he would. I was still seeing my therapist ... I had mentioned I had an appointment. I was losing my shit in that appointment: crying, panicking just about to reveal how suicidal I feel but I caught myself. 

I left my appointment. I texted him "I'm fine I'm good thanks." He tells me he can't stop thinking about me. Now shit just got weird. this is very weird. I don't understand these people. Where do I live? which society am I a part of? 

I can't find a goddamn normal man to commit to me. I can't even FIND a decent man. But somehow I have impacted these strange men who are not only strangers but they're fucking strange in the brief interactions I've had with them. It's all a game. 

I'm seriously worried about my life. I've got  a serious drug problem. I'm so dependent it hurts. If I didn't have any Xanax this evening I would've gone out and fucking drink my sorrows like a goddamn fish. But I don't drink alcohol. No I do not drink any alcohol. I take Xanax and tell myself it's not as bad. 

Denial catches up to you. Whether that's physically or subconsciously. Truth is a bitch and it never goes away. The sooner you deal the better.

Confessional 101 courtesy of the truth serum,

ElyVas on a truth campaign