Beth

Okay, after a small mental breakdown this morning, I've come to the realization that not all is as good as I've been duping myself into believing.

I've backslide in my depression. I've been telling myself that I have a lot of migraines, I'm not feeling good, I'm burnt out- anything to avoid confronting the fact that I'm not getting better.

But I'm not. I'm horribly inactive. I rarely leave the couch, let alone my house- this from a girl whose favorite part of the summer used to be camping with her Girl Scout troop. I'm relying on pop (that's soda pop, for the non-midwesterners among you) to keep me going and consequently, I weigh more than I ever have in my life. Which impacts my self esteem and makes me feel even more like a lazy slob. Yet I also have to force myself to eat on a regular basis. I love my work at the museum; it should be a joy to go to, but I have to drag myself. Writing anything is like pulling teeth. Even hobbies like video games and reading just aren't as fun anymore. I don't want to do anything but sleep.

That constant black cloud over my head is back.

And I hate it.

I hate putting all my plans, dreams, and goals on permanent hold because I can't function like a normal person. I hate feeling useless and stupid. I hate feeling like I'm letting people down.

I've moved my appointment with my psychiatrist up and Mom has agreed that we should probably start looking for someone else too, given how long he's been treating me and how long this has been a problem. So this won't last forever. There's hope. I know that.

But right now, I'm sitting here after having emailed the museum to tell them I need some time off, crying myself into another migraine mostly likely and...things aren't looking so good.