Journal

I'm 24 years old and I've never been to a bar or dance club in my life. A few indie band types of places, but never an actual dance club. In the days before we were to go out I was excited. The day before I was dreading- i had no place being at a club with all these beautiful, young, thin people. The day of was mostly a hassle because my husband wanted to see a movie, we had to find a baby sitter, etc etc.

The original plan: to have a girl's night out with Tara and Val (names have been changed) to a bar or club and scout for women (for me and Tara).

Why did I think the original plan was going to work?

Val decided to go out with a friend, Andy, before we went to the club. Tara and I met and carpooled to the place they were and found an additional person I didn't know and, of all people, my brother. Excluded from conversations that would have been uncomfortable with my brother there, and in the presence of people I didn't even know that panic feeling started to rise in my chest and throat. My brother brought up religion and, despite my refusal to say anything, being one of only two atheists there, Andy decides to go on about it anyway. Feeling hopelessly ganged up on I ordered a cosmo and took a Klonopin. After a few minutes I took another.

So the unnamed girl leaves with a headache and the four of us, me, Tara, Val, and Andy head over to the club. I was right... I was indeed completely out of place among these beautiful, young, tiny girls. The dance floor was crowded and hot, men and women grinding in an orgy of body parts and sweat. It stunk, filling slowly with smoke that tickled my lungs and made my eyes water slightly.

We find a seat, weaving our way through writhing bodies and drunk pole dancers. Val convinces me to go dance. I felt awkward and stupid. I think I'm a fairly good dancer, but just to be sure, I don't do it in front of people unless it's a specifically comical. I became more and more uncomfortable as bodies bumped against me, breaking my rhythm (if i had any) in my attempt to get away from them.

I would stop dancing occasionally until Val would come and get me again. My brother took off somewhere with Tara and Andy was off making out with random guys. This was not the kind of night I thought I'd have. Val was dancing with someone else and I was just kind of there. I felt like I was in a spotlight. One of those slow motion scenes where you're standing still, looking around, while the entire world moves a round you, distorted. The sounds and the smells, the bodies pushing against me, the thunderous boom of the music shaking the floor- I felt dizzy. Too loud, too bright, too fast. I slipped off to the side of the dance floor and stood, trying to keep my shaky legs steady and my vision in focus.

Maybe it was a bad idea to go, or maybe it was just a bad idea to bring along other people. Either way, I'm not sure it's an experience I want to have again. It's kind of funny, as beepers are kind of stereotyped into the club scene, especially when manic- not me. I guess I'm the odd one out, even among the black sheep of the world.

I'm having a terrible day today... I feel like screaming and just bawling my eyes out until I can't even think anymore... and I'm too afraid to post anything to any of my support groups beacuse inevitably there's someone not being so supportive who makes all the other replies moot in the damage it does. So I feel more alone than ever, not even able to use this support site for support. I just suddenly burst into tears and now I'm trying hard to keep them back. Feels like just before a breakdown.. can't have one of those without insurance though!

H's in a foul mood, of course.. he has been almost every day since I started seeing my therapist again (on the 5th). Seems like work stress at the moment.

I'm tired.. I haven't had meds in over a month (other than the lamictal which I took so briefly it didn't have a chance to help) and I won't have any for another two weeks.. then i have to wait an additional two weeks for them to kick in... if they even do. 

I'm tired and any hope I had left has flown out the window. After all the abuse and the cheating and the horrible shit I've had to go through  my entire. fucking. life. I thought maybe a diagnosis and pills would make it better.. give me a chance to be happy... what did i get? even MORE m isery, meds that don't work, side effects, and a happy excuse for people to NOT be there for me because my feelings are no longer valid since i'm "just sick". They expect the pills to fix everything so that they don't have to bother. And that's what I deal with- people who care about me that much. 

I am so tired... I can't even put into words how much i HATE life and HATE living. It's torture. 

I am well and truly pissed. I'm sick and tired of the LGBT community being just as bigoted, just as hateful, and just as judgemental towards each other as the straight community is towards them. I'm sick of being verbally accosted from gays and straights for being bisexual. I was just reading a thread on the LGBT reddit about how hateful the transgendered community is among themselves- how post ops look down on pre ops and M-F post ops look down on F-M pre ops, etc, etc. There are even people of all persuasions in the LGBT community who think that somehow sexuality is still a choice.. that it doesn't have to do with how you're biologically born.

I just came across this quote on the LGBT reddit forums: " as for sexual orientation being something you are born with, this seems to be more true for the male sex than the female sex"

So... men are either born Gay bi or straight, but women get to choose? In who's f'ed up world is this true in?! So much for being a community and supporting each other! This is ridiculous beyond words.