Back to baseline

I am okay.

Really.  I am okay.  I am no longer worried about falling off the edge.  I am okay.  

Thank you all for reading what I wrote.  It is never fun to read the thoughts of a depressed person, and I thank you.  I cannot tell you how comforting your comments were.  Sometimes, the best support can come from strangers.

I am not sure what to do with this blog now.  I have a regular blog to talk about regular things.  Dunno.

Therapy tomorrow.  Not sure how this is going to work now that I'm not horribly depressed.  last week she took the opportunity to find out about my family and my relationships to my parents and now she seems to want to get into all this stuff that I've always been dealing with - the pressure my parents put on me, how I've lost my own opinions in the mileu of my parents' opinons, etc.  I don't know how much I want to go into that stuff.  Part of me still wants to talk about my failed relationship.

Hello I'm still ANGRY that the only way I can manage happiness is to cut him out of my life completely!  I hate this!  I don't know any way to fix it though, even if I did try to be his friend.  He most likely hates me and only will spit poison.  It is so sad.  

This was my first love.  I had such hopes.

There's never any fucking help!

My "therapist" stood me up today.  

I guess it's my own fault.  I wrote on the intake form that she shouldn't call my phone number, and instead should contact me through email.  Except I can't check my email at work, and the appointment was directly after work, so I never got the message that she had to cancel last minute because her kid got sick.

I went, and got there five minutes early.  It's always a little awkward because I don't know if I should knock on her office door or not - if I'd be disturbing someone else's sensitive counseling session or something.  So I waited in the waiting room for her to come get me.  Five minutes.  Ten minutes.  I got up and tried knocking softly.  No answer, but maybe it was too quiet?  Fifteen minutes.... twenty minutes.  I tried knocking loud.  No answer.  Thirty minutes. 

At forty minutes I broke down.  Of course it crossed my mind that she could have had a reasonable reason for not showing up, but I had forgotten that I had written that she shouldn't call me.  It seemed more likely that she forgot me.  I needed HELP and I finally admitted that I needed HELP and I did everything I was supposed to to try and get help and there was still NO HELP.  THERE'S NEVER ANY FUCKING HELP!  And things spiralled downward from there.

Crying in the shrink's waiting room.  How cliché.

I didn't know what to do.  I texted him.  He is the only person who I've ever felt comfortable talking about being "crazy" to.  He is the only person who probably sees me as legitimately nuts.  In a good way?  I don't even know anymore.  I guess I must have come off as even more crazy than I really was, because he texted back suggesting a crisis hotline.  That was just wonderful.

Now I am stuck with myself for another whole week with NO HELP.   And I am struggling and I am failing.  I am failing at my job.  I cried at work for the first time in my entire life.  I am failing at my other job.  I got chewed out by my boss the other day for doing things last minute.  I might be picking up 2 more part time job/internship commitments because my mother insists that I PUT MYSELF OUT THERE because the only way to succeed is to be  GO-GETTER and I have went and "go-gotten" myself into way more committments than I can handle right now.  Two more groups of people to fear letting down.  Two more chances to find out I suck at my job and not get a good reference.  Two more committments to stress me out and take time away from the gym.

The gym.  I haven't gone more than 4 times in the past two weeks.  This is not good.  I NEED to be working out.  I have completely slacked off and failed MYSELF.  AGAIN.  

PLUS I have to wear this godawful bridesmaid dress in a wedding coming up and if I gain a pound I won't fit into it.  I'm serious.  And it's too cheaply made to be altered.  Pressure, pressure, pressure, pressure....

I'm about to fucking explode.  And if all that isn't enough, I have a fucking hemorrhoid and a zit on my chin the size of a planet.

I am this close to giving up.