Warning: the following post was written while wallowing in depression and self pity OR thinking like I'm 16 again.

At the risk of sounding like some gothy teenager, I am feeling the tendrils of depression creeping toward me. At least I noticed. The big question is whether to jump on effexor now, before it actually debilitates me or wait it out and see if I can battle it on my own this time. Though I thought I was still really happy and excited about my "new life" or the reclamation of my old one, I realize that I have been more and more irresponsible of late and not quite so buoyant. There are a few recent events that may have acted as triggers. Someone that I am required to deal with on a semiregular basis has attacked my character. The worst parts being that not only was it behind my back, but I really shouldn't know the details of the attack anyway, so there is no opportunity to defend myself. Add to that the absolute continuity of how this person has dealt with me in person, if I didn't know this person's true feelings about me, I honestly would never guess. So suddenly my ability to judge people is completely off kilter and I am essentially being lied to every time this person is friendly toward me. Oh yeah and then there's that rejection thing. I really would have thought I was finally past allowing my self-esteem to be affected by how attractive a guy finds me. Again, particularly since only yesterday I relived the statement I've made for years about how domming has influenced my self image, you must know it, I've said it a million times, there's really no coming back from the ego boost of a man paying over $200 an hour to kiss my feet. Yesterday afternoon I saw a repeat client who is a pure foot fetishist.

Regarding that whole boy situation, I feel like I was unintentionally thrust from my emotional cocoon, went soaring for a moment and then discovered that it was way too premature and that I didn't even have wings yet. Amazing to go through such upheaval over someone who isn't even interested. At first I thought I was grateful that I had discovered I could even consider being anything more than physically attracted to anyone. But I must admit, at this moment, I entirely regret the intimacy we shared. You know, crack the lock on pandora's box and all the sorrows pour out. Well then, where the fuck is hope?

I just reread this post thus far and I really do sound like my 16-year-old-overdramatic-self. Ugh. How lame am I right now?