Balance

Geez, these last few months have been an absolute blur. I have been so busy with work and this new thing called "balance" in my life. Previous to my meltdown in January, I worked and stayed home. That was my life. Now that I have found stability with my depression and moods, and actually want to go out, I'm much more busy than I am used to!

Most days I make myself leave work no later than 5, work out 2 or 3 times a week, and have dinner with at least one friend during the week. On the weekends I am trying to make sure that I have one thing planned ahead of time to do for myself, whether it's going shopping for a new pair of shoes, movies with a friend or just an hour to lay out by the pool.

It's crazy. I never thought that I could be happy being so busy. I was always terrified of not having time to be at home, by myself, to sleep all day, or to cut. But I'm finding that as I'm making more of an effort to surround myself with people who I truly trust and WANT to be around, I am okay with giving up "my" time for "us" time.

It's a baby steps process though. I still give myself permission to hole up at least one night a week so I can have my alone time. I still feel the most comfortable when I am alone, but as I'm building stronger relationships that is slowly changing. Some weekends I still find myself wanting to sleep all day Saturday (because I can!) and not make the effort to connect with anyone. That is still a struggle. The little voice in my head keeps telling me I deserve my time, but it's a fine line I have to keep my eye on to make sure it doesn't turn back into socially withdrawing and feeding the depression.

I've felt very disconnected from the abused side of me since I left IOP a month ago and returned back to normal life. At first it was so frustrating to me because that has been my only side since 2008 and I felt like I didn't even know who I was. I hated it. I felt so uncomfortable without that weight inside of me that I have grown so accustomed to. After a while I found that I actually was able to enjoy things that I hadn't in such a long time. I felt light, clear-minded and happy. For the first time in YEARS, I did something for someone else. I actually thought of someone else first and wanted to do something for them... and not only that, I was excited to do that! Before I was so buried in my own pain I rarely even noticed what was going on with other people, let alone think about their pain and how it might be affecting them.

But in the back of my mind, I see this guillotine raised above me, just waiting for something to come swooping in, cut the rope and send the blade back down on my life. I don't ever want to be thrown back into the depths of darkness like I was when this first happened in 2008, and again this last January. I don't want to put myself in a position where I don't see it coming, or can't act in time to keep myself safe.

I went out on a date last night for the first time in almost 2 years... and I actually enjoyed myself. I wasn't in my head, freaking myself out about the what if's and trying to predict the future. I was just there, in the moment and it was great! I had such a blast and really liked hanging out with this guy.

The ride home, however, was not great. The smile on my face faded after about 5 minutes and my weight suddenly reappeared. I honestly don't remember driving home after that. I remember focusing on trying to keep the memories and old habits, thoughts, feelings from taking me over. I know I had a panic attack. But the 20 minute ride home is a black hole... and I got home and had to put just about every strategy I learned from IOP into play just to keep myself afloat. After about an hour I was able to pull myself out of it and calm down enough to go to bed.

I'm feeling better this morning, but am more afraid of life today. I feel the guillotine blade on the back of my neck and I'm afraid to move. But I'm not going to let this discourage me. My life is new now, and I've got to re-learn how to live with my scars.

Round Hole, Square Peg

Man, I had no idea it had been so long since I posted last.

Last week was my first one back to work since December 17th. It was extremely busy but all in all it was a pretty easy transition back. This week is Spring Break, so it was nice to be able to get my feet wet and then take a break. I left Saturday morning to fly out to California to see my dad. He is in a rehab hospital now and doing remarkably well considering everything he has been through (aneurysm and stroke) 45 days ago. His ability to process things is probably what has been affected the most, but he continues to make improvements every day. It's going to be a long road, but I know he will get better!

I got back late Tuesday night and have been in kind of a funk ever since. Normally leaving my dad is hard, because I only get to see him 2, maybe 3 times a year... but this time it was hard for a different reason. I so want to be there and be a part of my dad's recovery, but it just isn't feasible. That's very hard for me to come to terms with.

I had a session with V today, which I'm not sure if I'm satisfied with how it went or not. I've been so distracted by things lately that I have been trying too hard to push myself back to where I was (as far as awareness of how things were affecting me, what I wanted to talk about, etc) and it just isn't working. It's like trying to push a square peg into a circular hole. Push all you want, but it just won't work. That's how I feel.

I've been feeling very lonely lately. So many of my friends are pregnant, and if they aren't pregnant then they are getting married. It's really hard to see all of that (dang you Facebook depression!) knowing you want it, but still feeling too scared to pursue it and unsure if you're ready for it. I know there's no way I'm ever going to get what I want without allowing myself permission to take risks and try things that I might not "feel" ready for, but I'm just in that mindset that I believe it's never going to happen for me. That in 10 years I'm going to be in the same place I am now and have to resort to doing something like AI to get pregnant because I won't be married.

My desire for motherhood comes and goes in waves. Most of the time I just have it in the back of my mind as a life's goal, then other times it is ALL I can focus on. I want nothing more than to have a child. It's like withdrawal. I HAVE TO HAVE IT. I think there's a name for it, biological clock or what have you. The smallest things just set me off... and that's how it has been the past few weeks. I found out my oldest best friend (friends since birth, born a day apart and neighbors) is pregnant. She's not married or even in a serious relationship, but I was SO jealous when I found out. V texted me the other day saying she'd have to postpone our phone session because she couldn't get her little girl to sleep. Stab to the heart. Things that you wouldn't think would be a big deal have just been tearing me to pieces.

Today I found out that two of my co-workers are pregnant. It's like it's surrounding me. Showing me what I want and may never have. I know it's negative and unhealthy for me to be allowing myself to think this way, but I have no evidence that anything but this will be the case, and my logical side is being drowned by my over-emotional somewhat dramatic other side.

For The First Time In Months

I'm almost afraid to write this, lest I jinx myself.

For the first time in MONTHS I am feeling like myself. Not lost in the depths of depression or in the throes of anxiety, but dare I say, content.

For the first time since Christmas, I actually got together with my friends. I didn't cancel and stay locked in my apartment. I even had fun! I didn't feel scared to be out, or anxious to be surrounded by so many people. I didn't even want to leave like I so often do after about an hour. I am even going out to dinner tonight with another group of friends.

It's almost like the past 2 months didn't even happen and I'm just waking up from a bad dream. I am still very emotional about my dad and the situation regarding his health. He has been moved out of ICU and is out of the woods as far as death goes, but he is still having a hard time staying alert. He is only awake maybe 4 hours a day, and is often very withdrawn during that time. He recognizes people and has what the doctors call "automatic speech". Meaning he can talk to you easily using speech that is embedded in the brain from frequent usage; like hello, goodbye, please, thank you, etc. He has a harder time trying to construct longer sentences, but can if you don't overwhelm him.

I am so thankful that he is no longer in any danger of dying, but now I'm having to come to terms with all of this change. It may take years for him to fully return to where he was before all of this happened. He may be the same person, he may not. He may have deficits, he may not. Lots of unknowns. I started crying when I was driving the other day because I realized that when I flew out there in a few weeks that he wasn't going to pick me up at the airport like he always does. He wouldn't give me the huge hug and greet me with "Hi Punkin", like he always calls me. It's a lot to have to take in.

Given everything that's happened in the last couple of months, I am so grateful for where I am right now. It's nice to finally see the hard work I've been putting into my healing us finally paying off.

Ups and Downs

I feel like a broken record. My life is like one giant never-ending roller coaster. It goes up, up, up and lures me into a false sense of hope and security then speeds downhill at a rate that feels like it might kill me.

Last week was pretty stable. I went to IOP every day, talked about things that were on my mind, allowed myself to process the visit to California, and my continued fears regarding him and his health. All in all, I was feeling really well Friday when I left IOP. My mood improved even more when I found out my dad was taken off the ventilator and was awake for the first time in 3 weeks. I even got to talk to him on the phone for a few seconds. My aunt held the phone up to his ear while I told him I loved him. :)

Feeling so fueled by this great news, I had the energy to start doing things that I have been neglecting; namely cleaning. So I started cleaning my apartment all the while texting with my sister about getting together Saturday afternoon at the dog park. So I go into my bathroom to start scrubbing the tub and thought I heard my phone ringing, but with the water running I couldn't tell. When I turned the water off it was still ringing so I went to see who it was and it said "BLOCKED". Normally I don't pick up when I don't recognize the number, but I was worried it was my stepmom or aunt calling from the hospital so I went ahead and took the call. A guy was on the other end and this was the conversation:

Hey Lily.

Who is this?

What? You don't remember me? Come on Lily. I've seen you, you're looking good.

I hung up the phone and started freaking out. I had no idea who it could be or how he got my number. I saw that I had 5 missed calls, in the span of about 3 minutes and that he had left a message. I listened to it and then really started freaking out.

I saw you driving your black Lexus today. You're looking good. And you're in apartment 1509 right? Yeah, I can't wait for our little reunion. It'll be soon.

Oh. My. God. I was hysterical. I was shaking and crying. I ran to my front door and made sure the door was locked. I ran to my patio and locked that door too (which doesn't even make sense because I'm on the top floor and there's no way anyone can get in that way). I got my phone and called 911. I was expecting someone to beat down my door and chop me to little pieces. The switchboard took my information and said they'd be sending a cop my way. As soon as I hung up I started trying to call friends that lived near me because I knew I wasn't going to be staying at my apartment. After no luck getting ahold of the first couple, I tried calling my mom (which I knew would be futile because she let's her phone charge in the kitchen overnight). I knew I could just drive home (about 30 min away) without reaching her by phone but I needed someone to TALK to while I was waiting for the police to arrive. I finally got ahold of one of my friends who lives about 10 minutes away and asked her if I could stay at her apartment that night, to which she said yes, of course. I talked to her a bit but was still feeling very unsafe so I got off the phone with her and decided to call my sister to see if she and her boyfriend could come over so I wasn't alone. They live about 10 minutes away too and I had no idea how long it would take the cops to show up since it wasn't a time-sensitive emergency. I called her phone like 4 times, her boyfriends phone at least 2, and my cousin's phone (they hang out a lot together) but no one was picking up! I was a basket case! FINALLY she called me back a few minutes later and I explained to her what was going on and that I wanted her and her boyfriend to come over here so I wasn't alone.

She started laughing.

Lily, that was me! I thought you knew it was me. I mean, I used a voice changer but we were just texting each other so I thought you knew it was me. I can't believe you called the cops! We were just playing around. You never come over and hang out with us. We were just trying to include you.

OH. MY. GOD. I just lost it. I had finally gotten to a point that I wasn't shaking or crying and I just LOST IT. I have never wanted to kill anyone so much in my entire life. I yelled at her, which she probably couldn't understand because I was crying too but I just let her have it. Not 10 days ago did I confide in her that I hadn't been working because my PTSD was so bad that I had to seek intensive treatment and she goes and pulls this? I was just beside myself. I was so mad I could barely think. I hung up on her and just sat on my sofa and bawled. I was already full of fear, but to add anger, confusion, (relief that I wasn't in danger) among everything else... I felt like an idiot when the cops finally did show up and I had to explain to them that it was my psychotic sister who thought it would be funny to play a joke on me. Jesus. I was such a mess telling them this I'm sure they could tell how well she pulled off this "prank."

This whole situation completely affected my weekend. I am already having a tough time finding the energy to go out and do things. And an even harder time getting together with people. Aside from my family and doctors, I haven't seen anyone since New Years Eve. My desire to hide is overwhelming, but I was starting to feel more secure in leaving my "safe place" (home) to go see some good friends of mine that live about an hour away. But after Friday night, I didn't even leave my apartment for the entire weekend. In fact, I slept the majority of my weekend. I was so upset about what had happened that I allowed myself to shrink away even more.

I've continued to go to IOP, but the group has gotten so big (we had 9 people on Monday) that it is getting harder for me to have the opportunity to process what is weighing on me. We only have an hour that is designated for "open talk" and some of these women have no respect for other people's time. Today we were missing a few people, so the smaller group was easier to speak up in but I had to walk out at the end of our group. There are these two ladies that just have no idea how overbearing they are. They constantly interrupt each other and our IOP therapist when she is talking and it bugs me. Today, she focused on those two women and their issues, and it was a constant hour of listening to them talk on top her, not letting her finish her sentences, interrupting someone else, raising their voices so that they could be heard on top of someone else... it was just too much. My anxiety was through the roof listening to all of this that I was about to have a panic attack so I just walked out. They have no respect for other people and I refuse to be treated that way while I'm there.

I'm "graduating" IOP on Tuesday and I'm terrified. I'll be heading back to work full-time on Monday, March 7th and I just don't know how I'm going to fare. There are so many things at work that are huge triggers and I just don't know if I'm going to be able to shoulder it all and take care of myself. Only time will tell I guess...

It Can't Get Any Worse, Right?

So 2011 has pretty much sucked 100% since it started. It's one of those things that I silently think to myself "It can't get any worse" but then catch myself because I know that's not true. Every few weeks it seems I'm being dealt another situation to deal with in addition to the extreme burden I'm already carrying around. I am just now able to process the last two weeks enough to sit down and write about it.

My sister and I flew out to California on Saturday morning, as we couldn't get anything sooner because of the weather here. We arrived and took a cab to the hospital, greeted by my uncle. My dad had surgery late Friday night that lasted 10 hours, but was successful. It fixed his aneurysm and he was conscious and responding to commands once he woke up from anesthesia. We stopped in the cafeteria to eat when my aunt (who is a doctor) came running into the cafeteria and told us to come upstairs that my dad was no longer responding to commands or talking and she didn't like how things were looking. They were getting ready to rush him to CT and she wanted us to have the opportunity to see him, should anything happen.

It was horrible. He was restrained (because brain injuries often result in uncontrolled/involuntary aggression as a side effect to the trauma) and had tubes everywhere. As a result of the surgery, his whole head was bandaged and his right eye looked like someone had punched him. Apparently that is common because of how they had him situated when they did the surgery. Blood pools in that area and makes the patient look like they lost a street fight. My dad has never been sick aside from bronchitis every now and then, so this hit me like a ton of bricks. I grabbed his hand and asked him to open his eyes. He was only able to open one (as the other was swollen shut) but he looked right at me. I told him I loved him and that I wanted him to be strong.

That was the last time he was conscious. The result of the CT showed that he was having a common side effect of brain trauma and surgery, called vaso-spasming: a constriction of the blood vessels in the brain. If they constrict too much, they cause strokes and irreparable damage. Because of how quickly this came on and how much it caused him to decompensate, his doctors decided to put him in a medically induced coma and intubate him so his body would have time to heal without having to otherwise work so hard. I almost lost my father Saturday.

Sunday they were working on getting his blood pressure stable on the cocktail of medicines he was on while trying to treat the vaso-spasms. He had two procedures Sunday and was put on a ventilator. When I finally got to see him, I wanted to cry. They had to shave his beard in order to intubate him. I have NEVER seen my dad without a beard. He has had it since 1975, almost 10 years before I was born so I've seldom even seen pictures of him without it, unless he was a teenager. I know it was stupid, but I was so distraught.

Monday and Tuesday were pretty much the same. He was still unconscious and intubated, and my sister and I only got to see him for about 30 minutes each day. Our flight back was Tuesday and I was scared to leave. He hadn't really made any improvements since we got there and I was scared that he was going to get worse. When I went in there to say goodbye to him I just lost it. My aunt was in the room with me and just held me as I wept. The past 4 days had finally caught up with me and I couldn't hold it in any longer. She's got great bedside manner and knew exactly what to say to me to make me feel better. Knowing she was staying there with my stepmom for as long as necessary made me feel so much better as well.

My sister and I got back late Tuesday night, right in time for another ice storm. Everything was closed Wednesday so I couldn't return to IOP, but I did go Thursday. I can honestly say I was terrified to go because I didn't want to talk about the past week. I was about to fall apart and I knew it. But my IOP counselor prompted me to share with the group why I had been gone (I had been in contact with her so she already knew) and I just lost it. I cried and cried and felt like crap when I left. I was so drained and depressed that I couldn't get myself out of bed Friday to go to IOP, but a call from my aunt later that day raised my spirits.

They were slowly lifting my dad out of his coma to test his brain functions and he was moving his arms and legs and was able to show two fingers when the doctors asked him to. They kept him under extreme sedation for the rest of the weekend, but my aunt called me this morning saying that he's opening his eyes, responding to questions with nods (he still can't talk because he's still on a ventilator), moving arms and legs and following commands. They will probably take him off the ventilator tomorrow and if he keeps improving at this pace, they'll wean him off all the medications he's on and he could be out of the ICU by next Sunday!

He still has a long road ahead of him. They won't be able to tell how all of this affected his brain until he has some time to gain consciousness. He had a small stroke as a result of the vaso-spasming and the place it was located in his brain is responsible for mood and impulsiveness. Unfortunately those two are already affected with brain trauma, but adding a stroke in that area means that there is a good chance he may act different than he did before. It's likely that he will be able to walk without any problems (after some physical therapy to gain back the muscle mass he's lost/will lose after being bed-ridden for about a month) and talking might or might not be affected. It's all a waiting and patience game at this point, but it appears that he is no longer critical.

It has been a crazy couple of weeks, no doubt. I was glad to be back at home, even though I wanted to be there for my dad. I kept trying to tell myself that my dad would want me to be here, taking care of myself and trying to get better. That's the mantra I keep repeating to myself. I spent Friday to myself, resting and trying to work on my mood. I called a friend who lives a few hours away and asked him a favor. He used to be in the Army and when he was deployed overseas, I cared for his dog. The most sweet, lovable dog I have ever known. I asked him if I could come pick him up and have a little dog therapy time since these past few weeks have been so hard. I was delighted to hear that he would be glad to let me take him for a while! That helped lift my spirits, too. Finally things were going in the right direction and Friday night I was actually a little happy.

Cue catastrophe. My cat, who is pushing 20, came into the living room where I was watching TV, jumped on the sofa like she normally does, sat there for a second then started having a seizure. She has NEVER done that before and it was terrifying. She took a header off the couch onto the floor and started making these horrible noises while she was convulsing. It seemed to last forever, but after about 90 seconds she stopped. She laid there for a while then I tried to get her to stand up, which she did somewhat drunkily. After about 5 minutes she started walking and went straight to her food bowl and started eating. She was acting perfectly normal. Of course this was at like 11 at night, so there was nowhere I could take her to get her checked out. I woke up early Saturday and took her to my vet, who looked her over and took some blood. It should be back tomorrow. There's a possibility that this was caused from a thyroid problem, diabetes or liver issues. If all that comes back normal it may just be a fluke. Every time the vet sees her he comments how she is the healthiest cat he's ever seen at her age. Hopefully that will continue to be true. I don't know if I could handle losing her now.

Life is so overwhelming right now I almost can't even think about it all at once. That's why I waited so long to write here because I didn't want to trigger myself into having a panic attack. I'm doing my best to take it day by day, sometimes even hour by hour. Having my sweet little boy back definitely is helping. We went to the park today and enjoyed the fact that the sun was out for the first time in what feels like months. It was just what I needed. He's the best therapy I could ask for!

Seriously, God?!

If life wasn't enough to handle right now, God has thrown me another curve.

My dad is in the ICU from an aneurysm that caused bleeding in his brain. My sister and I are flying out there Saturday. I wish it could be sooner but the entire state is covered in ice (I've been stuck at home for 4 days, sometimes with power, sometimes not), temps in the single digits with wind chills bottoming out at -18 this morning and more headed our way tonight.

I have pretty much been in a constant panic attack all day today. Please pray for my dad. He's having surgery tomorrow morning to try and stop the bleeding.

An Update On Treatment

Sorry I've been MIA for so long. Being in treatment every day doesn't leave me much energy to come home and write.

V decided last week that she wanted me to fully commit to working the program at IOP and that she would not continue to meet with me while I was in treatment. I flipped out. I was so upset I literally cried for 3 hours, but I understood why she was making this decision. I wasn't pushing myself to participate in treatment because I knew I could wait and talk to her.

Now that it has been over a week, knowing that my only chance to process/talk is at IOP, I have really been able to commit to the process and feel like I'm finally making some progress.

It is still really hard to talk about some things and fully trust the group, but I at least feel like it is starting to do some good.

I miss seeing V, but she'll be there for me when I transition out and get back to work. Right now it looks like that won't be until February 22nd at the earliest. That is still a lot of time for me to continue healing!

Worst. Week. Ever.

The past 7 days have been probably the worst of my life. I have been to hell and back.

Last Thursday I started becoming extremely suicidal. Thankfully I had an appointment with my psychiatrist that day and she put me on a mood stabilizer right then. I wasn't honest with her about all the thoughts I was having because I did not want her to admit me to the hospital. It got worse Friday and Saturday. I really wanted to die. I started feeling better on Sunday, but was still extremely depressed. I didn't go to IOP on Monday because the roads were too icy to drive, but I did meet with V Monday night. She and my psychiatrist both thought it would be a good idea for me to voluntarily admit myself to the hospital. I really didn't want to do that, but allowed myself to be persuaded to try it. V went with me Tuesday to check into the hospital and once they walked us into the unit I freaked out. Like literally lost it. They had to put me in a room to calm down. V did her best to convince me to stay, but I couldn't. I was terrified of being "locked" up there. I felt really bad for wasting her time, she was there with me for almost 2 hours, but I just couldn't stay there.

V asked me to commit to doing PHP since I didn't agree to staying at the hospital and she wanted me to get more intensive help than what IOP could offer. I didn't want to do PHP originally because it was a coed group but I went Wednesday to this new group. I hated it. I was surrounded by detoxing men and felt so out of place. I left and called my IOP therapist to see if I could come back.

I had to be re-assessed and re-admitted since I had been MIA for 3 days. By the time I got done filling out the paperwork again, the clinician came in and told me that the women's group (the IOP program I had started) was being dissolved because there weren't enough people. I started freaking out again. I had no idea what I was going to do. I left the center to go to my session with V. By the time I got to her office they called and said they had another admission and that IOP was back on for Thursday.

I was so afraid of my session with V. I was so ashamed of how I reacted at the hospital and I was afraid she was mad at me. I definitely wasn't expecting the conversation that we had, but looking back at a more stable place I can't say I'm surprised that we had this conversation.

V told me that she allowed herself to get too emotionally involved with everything going on with me. She told me that over the last 2 weeks she was making decisions more as a mother or friend than as my therapist. She said the maternal side of her kicked in and she allowed her judgement to be affected by her emotions and feelings. She was so worried about me killing myself that she put me and my needs above her own. She was frustrated with herself because she didn't realize she was doing that until she left the hospital feeling emotionally and physically drained from watching and helping me through my freakout. Her decisions had enabled me to continue running to her any time things got hard (which I was doing... e-mailing, calling, texting, sessions 3 or 4x a week) and not allowing myself to reach out to anyone else for help. I literally got to a point over these last few weeks where I could barely function without talking to her. And like her, I didn't realize it in the moment. I felt bad that I had put such a strain on our professional relationship because of everything, but at the same time I felt so loved and supported in hearing her say just how much she cared for me and did all these things because she wanted to make sure that I stayed safe. I made sure to tell her how much I appreciated everything she did for me and that had she not been there to support me, I really felt as though I would have killed myself.

We talked a little bit about how things needed to change, as far as my treatment in IOP, how I needed to step back from relying on her so much and allow myself to be open to the group and therapist and what they can offer me. She told me there are things she is going to do differently as well, pertaining to how accessible she is to me. Part of the reason I became so dependent on her and unable to do anything on my own is because I could call, email or text her at anytime and she'd always respond. That is something that is not going to happen anymore. Obviously in emergencies this doesn't apply, but if she is always there to put out my fires, I'll never be able to figure out how to apply what we talk about in sessions.

I was scared when we were having this conversation because the insecure part of me thought this meant that she was no longer going to treat me, but I knew that I was overreacting. V has always wanted nothing more to help me heal, and this is just another step in the process.

So I went to IOP yesterday with a different outlook on how it was going to help me. I did my best to push myself to be present in the moment, be vulnerable and allow myself to trust that the group and therapist were not going to judge me. It was hard. Very hard. I started to talk about my abuse and abuser, but was still too afraid to talk specifically about what happened. I wish I could have done more, but this is a process. I can't do it all in one day. I had kind of a rough afternoon, having a panic attack at the grocery store and then another at home. It's not surprising since I am opening up about these secrets, but it still sucks.

I woke up today ready to go back to IOP and push myself more. Unfortunately the admission that was supposed to start today to make our group "big enough" didn't show up so they cancelled it. The group therapist offered to transfer us to the other program at the center, but it's lead by a male and focuses on chemical dependency. That is not going to help me. So now I am on standby for treatment. If someone else signs up over the weekend, we'll have IOP on Monday and Tuesday, if not we won't meet again until Wednesday when the next admission starts. I'm frustrated because I am ready to be working now, and I have to wait around. Right now I still have paid days to use, but those are going to run out next week. There is a chance I will qualify for the sick leave bank from work where they will give me donated paid days to use. That would be great, but I would hate to waste them sitting at home.

This weekend is going to be rough. No sessions with V, I can't allow myself to contact her, all my friends will be at our church retreat which I planned to go to, but when I was going to be hospitalized I had them refund my money since I wasn't sure I was going to be able to go. I hate feeling so alone. I hope my depression doesn't deepen because of this weekend.

I Hate My Life

This depression is sucking everything out of me... I wish I had happier news to report, but I just feel like slipping away. God willing, he'll either take me out of my misery or make this medicine work faster because I don't know how much more I can handle.

I'm Not Dead

Well, these past few days have been so incredibly difficult, unpredictable and spirit crushing, but I didn't kill myself... so I guess that's good. It's not for lack of wanting to though. I start treatment full time on Monday. Yee haw.