For the foreseeable future, this is the last installment of my Epic Woe series. Though I had planned to add a few more parts to finish out the tale, I put the tale on hiatus because I was getting hammered by the real life “Carla’s” friends for writing about her. Good grief. Perhaps in time I will resume the tale, but for now, enjoy Part VI and all the preceding tales…

To read Part V, please click here. To read Part I, click here.

Sunday, February 26, 2006. I awoke early. I called my parents and spoke to them, calmly. About an hour later I called them again, now upset. I called them once more, this time from the psychiatric division of the Los Angeles County Hospital.

I’m sure one day I’ll blog about my weeklong stay in two psychiatric hospitals, but I’ll spare you the awful (and sometimes hilarious) details for now. Not surprisingly, the doctors diagnosed me with major depressive disorder (and, later, Bipolar Disorder), and I spent a week under psychiatric supervision/evaluation followed by a month on disability.

Carla came to visit me in the hospital, and my feelings for her deepened. And when she couldn’t visit me in person, I would plug quarters into the payphones every day just to hear her voice.

When I got out of the hospital, things were far from good, but Carla and I were nervously entertaining the idea of starting a relationship. Obviously, we both had our reservations: she was still hurt by her painful breakup with Roscoe, and I was, well, kind of crazy. Nevertheless, we spoke or saw each other daily (I had lost my insurance job due to my extended absence), and Carla provided me with some of the happiest moments in my life after leaving the hospital.

There was another major problem, however. No matter how much it felt like Carla and I were already in a relationship and did most of things that everyone in a relationship does together, she wouldn’t concede that we were actually in a relationship.

“I’m not ready,” she said.

“I understand that,” I said, “just be honest with me, though. If you don’t want to be in a relationship with me, just say so.”

I had the creeping feeling that I was being jerked around, but no matter what I did or said, Carla convinced me that she just wasn’t ready to be in a relationship. I believed her. I was wrong.

To read Part IV, please click here. To read Part I, click here.

One Friday in February 2006, I called out sick from work. I had had a terrible day at work on Thursday and needed a day to regroup. I probably spent most of that Friday afternoon in bed.

That evening, however, I went out with Carla and a mutual friend. My friend and I were sitting in a Quizno’s in Burbank while Carla chatted with someone on her cell phone outside. I confessed to my friend that I had feelings for Carla.

“Are you going to tell her?” he asked.

“I guess I have to,” I said. “I just don’t know when.”

Moments later, Carla came into the store and announced that she had just arranged a date for herself on Saturday. I couldn’t believe it. Just my luck. My friend and I started to laugh. But when we refused to let Carla in on the joke, she got annoyed. Eventually, my friend excused himself, and I told Carla the news.

“I have something to tell you,” I said.

“What is it?”

“You don’t know?”

“No.”

I hesitated, then managed to clumsily say, “I think I’m starting to get a crush on you.”

Carla smiled.

I drove Carla home that night, and we talked for a long time about many things. When it was all said and done, Carla told me she would be canceling her date on Saturday. Things were good for the moment, but the next two days would be two of the worst days of my life.

Continued in Part VI

To read Part III, please click here. To read Part I, click here.

It wasn’t long before Carla learned that Roscoe was cheating on her with Dawn. I felt terrible for Carla. She had always been committed to Roscoe, and for that I admired her. She obviously loved him very much. I did my best to be there for her as a friend, and I tried to console her the best I could.

Meanwhile, my life was changing as well. I had quit my job at the bookstore and had completed training for my new job as a claims adjuster for an auto insurance company. In sadder news, my grandfather discovered he had stomach cancer; and within a month, by the end of January 2006, he died. I flew to New Jersey to attend his funeral. I stood by his grave in the falling snow.

Upon returning to California, I fell into a great, sodden depression. I couldn’t sleep at night, and all I wanted to do after work was lay in bed. My concentration suffered as well, which made my new, demanding job even more difficult. Furthermore, I hated the new job, and even though I was only a few months into it, I desperately wanted to quit. Then, in February, I started to see a psychiatrist, and I was put back on an antidepressant I had first taken when I was eighteen.

And, to top it all off, I had finally admitted to myself that I had a crush on Carla.

Continued in Part V