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PMS, depression, and a general bad attitude.

It’s weird to think about where I’ve come from, what I used to want, and what I have now that I’m an adult.

There was a time, many moons ago, when I wanted to be married and have a family. Not the lame family like you see on “mom jeans” commercials, but a cool family. One with a doting husband, smart kids, and personal fulfillment. I used to think that was the direction I was headed, but as I drove to Portland two years ago by myself hurting and alone, I knew I was letting it all go.

I had just gotten out of a long term relationship with Drew, the love of my life. He was perfect in every way but one, he was clinically depressed. We had spent six years together, two or three of them were really happy. The rest were a struggle. The kind of struggle that makes you want to give up if only you could stop loving so much.

I never could.

It’s really sappy and terrible to admit that I wasted so many years, but what it boiled down to is that you can’t help people if they can’t help themselves.

He eventually went on medication and started working on himself, but I was already immersed in my Portland life and involved with another guy. I miss Drew and will still wake up thinking about him in the middle of the night, wondering what he’s doing, or thinking.

I hope he’s doing well.

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