The Irregulars

This is my third day without my med. I thought it would be prudent to talk about what going off my med has felt like so if I ever thought about going on one again, I could come back and read this and realize that coming off it is even worse than the bad feelings that made you go on it in the first place. Very brief backstory of why I have taken antidepressants for the last 15 years: Mom thought I might be depressed when I was 18 and had a breakup that I was apparently acting a little nutty about. So we went to her doctor, who, if my memory serves me, was basically a Stepford wife. A very thin, beautiful, and beautifully-made-up, rich middle-aged woman who seemed happy in a very detached kind of way - in other words, the kind of woman all my spidey senses tell me to hate immediately distrust, which is probably not great when you are there to talk to her about depression and trust her judgment on whether you are depressed. So she put me on Lexapro, which I took for about 5 years

Sometime in the last year or so, I confronted my parents with the fact that they ruined my life. See, when I was in high school, I had it all figured out. I was really into makeup and decided I wanted to be a professional makeup artist. This was in the time before 13 year old amateur makeup artists on YouTube figured out that they could make videos of themselves putting on makeup and make more money than I will ever make in my life. This was back in the days of "let me just experiment with this humongous Estee Lauder Christmas gift set until I look awesome and could conceivably in 10 years, if I go at this rate, convince someone I could do this for a living." One day, my aunt and uncle came over for dinner and my aunt, who didn't usually wear makeup, let me put makeup on her. I did gold and purple eyeshadow and she looked amazing and I took some pictures, only in the pictures she looked less of an avant garde New York club scener and more like a funny but very pretty

I feel like before I start talking about the irregular men I date, I should clear a few things up about myself. I probably 100% find myself dating Irregulars because I am an Irregular myself. Mostly awesomely irregular, like that Pucci knockoff dress you find in a vintage store that fits you perfectly but has slightly gross but not completely terrible 30 year old armpit stains (and maybe when you wear it people will think they are your armpit stains so it doesn't matter anyway).  But also in some not so awesome ways. My Mini Life Story I am 32 years old. For those that think it's important, I'm a Virgo. I grew up in a small town in Kentucky that also happens to be the state capital. Twenty points if you knew without googling that that's Frankfort, not Louisville or Lexington (neither of which are small towns, but I guess compared to New York or LA they are, so you would be excused for thinking that, in large part because 9 out of 10 Americans don't know Fra

I was feeling depressed the other night and talking to my mom on the phone. (How's that for a catchy opening hook?) We were talking about the eclipse and she lives in a place that was in the Path of Totality and was so excited to tell me about her experience seeing the moon block out the sun. She asked me how it was for me. I told her I had eclipse glasses and so was viewing it like a normal person, but that I also took a metal colander and was playing with it and making tiny crescent shapes on the large piece of paper I took outside, and that some haters were giving me a hard time about being weird and how some other well-meaning but totally insufferable person told me, "It's OK to be different," as if I am the kind of person who needs to be told that. I was fairly snarky about this last point. I should mention I was Facetiming my mom, which means I was on speaker for her houseguests - my second cousins who I haven't seen in 20 years - to hear. No mom wan