Morning... ugh

So as I sit here at 7:30am... With a bowl of cereal, and her asleep... I find myself thinking I'm lucky...

She may not be a super model, but she's smart, funny, and we have a lot in common. We get along great almost all the time, and even our arguments are far from extreme... Mostly petty things that I'm over even before the argument is done.

So after waiting a month and a half for a referral with a shrink to help with my depression... I finally got my appointment. He was so professional that his office was in the mall, he didn't have a receptionist, and he shouted for me to come in from the back room.

I should have taken a hint at this point that one of these things is not like the others, one of these things just doesn't belong... But I figured, my doc trusted this guy for me to see him, I should respect that and give it a chance.

His diagnosis? I'm bipolar. I'm bipolar because I'm fat. If I exercised and worked out, and was more active and weighed less, my depression would magically vanish.

Huh... You don't say? Really? Your professional opinion is that the chemical imbalance in my brain is because I'm FAT. Because when I was 13 and weighed in at 120 and fit, I was depressed... Why? Because I was fucking THIN??

Some part of me should be pleased that he didn't just ask me a bunch of pointless questions over and over again to try and text book my mind... But I'm not pleased at all. Am I overweight? Yes. Am I extremely obese? No.

My depression is a part of me that is broken... It needs to be corrected, it needs to find a fix. Maybe a more active lifestyle is a good start for it, but it is hardly the end of it. Someone to talk to, to work my problems out with, medication to balance the chemicals, among many other things, would all be steps towards correcting this. But no... I'm depressed cuz I'm fat.

That being said... I'd not be surprised that he's in a mall office without a receptionist because after experiencing a diagnosis from him, they went home and actually KILLED themselves. "I'm sorry, miss, your post-natal depression is because you're a lard ass from the baby. Lose the weight, you'll be so much happier despite your stillborn child."... "I know you lost your job, and things may seem hopeless, but lets face it, you lost your job because your fat and ugly, lose some weight and get a face lift and try again. You'll be happier!"

Yes... It irks me... What's your point?

As time goes by, I look at those I know, those who I call friend, and those who call me friend. I think of those I hang out with regularly, and those I speak with rarely... Those I WANT to hang around, and those I'm indifferent to one way or another.

Erika, Neal, Shaun fall into the category of those I want to be around, but rarely get the chance. Of course, despite this, I know at least one of the list is indifferent to my presence. Either way, that I've been in this city for 8 years, and can only name three people I like with conviction? That tells me there is little here for me.

With that in mind, I've begun the 2 year plan to move to the west coast. I can name three people in barrie worth staying for. One of which wouldn't care. I can name two people on the west coast worth being around, both of which feel the same way. Plus the west coast gives me Chandra... And in it's own weird way, would give me a family (her's)... So there are benefits to being out there, as opposed to here. It's just... Complicated. I call it a two year plan, but if I can make it sooner, I will. I just won't hold my breathe for it to work out sooner.

I'm going to try and sleep now, because sleep is what I should have been doing three hours ago when I laid down to rest.

Cheers,

Chris.