Birthdays, Boyfriends and Biology

I feel the rush of everything filtered and slowed down by the drugs coarsing through me. This is the part of anti-depressant medication that has always bugged me: feeling something that would normally be intense and having it reduced to an item on a list to be read off. Manageable, yes. Human, no...not my idea of human. Aside from pharmaceuticals there is age. I allow myself to see things from more than just my point of view. I may not agree with the vantage points, but I cannot pretend that they do not exhist or do not matter--as much as the child in me may stomp his feet and wish it were so.

So where does this leave me? Can I be hurt? Am I allowed to be may be a more accurate question. And even if I am allowed, still, where does this leave me? The art of detachment has been more of a fascade than a true artform for me. What makes me the person I am; how I identify with others has always been tied to how deeply I feel the world around me. This openness is why I had to learn to close myself up or I would be rubbed raw by the mostly unintentional brushes by passersby. (And unfortunately, the allowances of those I purposefully opened up to out of love)

My birthday, while it may be spent with friends, it will not be spent with my boyfriend. Prior engagements will have him in Hawaii. I tell myself it's just a silly day that we pat ourselves on the back and his presence is not required, but the reason is an on-going and evolving battle that I'm tired of having. At 34 (or at least approaching it) I need to finally focus energy and seek solace from those who are taking the time out of their lives to be with me and not focus on the things I have no control over and that I cannot change.

I had a brief talk with my mom a week or two ago. We talked about why it is that we involve ourselves with the type of people that we do. Sarah and I have been comparing notes with our men. These patterns of ours are somehow comforting.

Do we have such a hard time loving ourselves?
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