Dating Therapy and Medication ... My Polyamorous Life

I grew up with a great fear of quick sand. As if, at any moment, I might be minding my own business and then BAMMMM … death by quick sand. I blame cartoons and Princess Bride. You know what I wasn't afraid of as a kid? Pretty much anything I should have been. 

I certainly wasn't afraid that one day the SAD I felt would become a chronic condition to which I'd need copious amounts of medication in order to just function. Or that so many Karens with their, "I need to speak with the manager," hair cuts would tell me about how badly I need to go outside and hike or something, because I was lacking nature and not the good ol' happy juice my body doesn't make. I feel like these are the same people who call 911 on kids selling lemonade, or black men jogging that "don't belong in the neighbourhood." She lights patchouli incense and smokes her vape pen that smells like children's cereal in the car with her kids in it and the windows completely up while talking about Jennifer who smokes cigarettes outside her house. Karen had vaginal birth and breast feeds, and Jennifer had an emergency C-section and bottle feeds because her milk never came in. FUCK YOU KAREN, I'M NOT GOING TO START RUNNING MARATHONS WITH YOUR JUDGMENTAL ASS! JENNIFER AND I ARE GOING TO DRINK VODKA FROM THE BOTTLE! WHERE AM I GOING WITH THIS????

I like my antidepressants. I like not wanting to drive a knife into my veins on a regular basis. What do I not like? Being outside in Kansas. It's either cold and miserable, or hot and humid and absolutely fucking gross. We do not have good weather very often. That's why you have churches and bars everywhere. They're for you to pray it gets better, then drink when you realize it's never getting better. 

I'm a month or so away from going back to therapy, which I should be more pumped about than I am. But it's awkward … it's like you're dating all over again, only the person sitting in front of you expects you to improve and you're paying them to have expectations you'll never achieve instead of them just doing that for free like everyone else does. The first dates with a therapist are atrocious, but at least it's the one time you can start off your date listing every shitty thing your ex boyfriends ever did to you and NOT look like a psycho … for the most part. 

"Tell me about yourself! Tell me why you're here."

Dude, I'm just trying not to let depression kill me, bro.