Seddah's Journal

I've been slacking.  I haven't been responding to messages online, I haven't been reachable by phone, and I haven't been out of the house to see real people in weeks.  Or, it feels like weeks.  Why do I hit such a low point when summer arrives?

For a few weeks, I was doing great.  I was waking up (and going to sleep) at actual normal hours.  I was straightening my hair daily and cleaning my room.  I was getting shit done.  Two days ago, everything fell apart.  Not in one big catastrophe, but it may as well have been.  My self-esteem plummeted, I reverted back to my old sleeping pattern, and I just stopped giving a shit.

I'm back to my old ways; hating myself for every stupid thing I do and every pound (imaginary or no) I put on.  I haven't written anything new since school ended.  I haven't drawn anything, made anything, done anything.  I don't have a job.  I know I should get one.  I'm ... afraid.  My last job was absolutely horrifying.  Going there felt like standing in front of an audience naked while they yelled and heckled, calling out every single flaw I possess.  Except worse.  Millions of times worse.

And now my sister's home so she's on my back about driving (though admittedly less than she used to be).  I have an appointment in July to have an EEG done to determine the cause (or probable cause) of my seizures.  Secretly, I want them to declare me unable to drive due to extenuating medical circumstances.  Or whatever they call it.  I hate driving.  I feel so ... out of control.  I am terrified of driving.  I want a counsellor so badly, but there aren't any in this stupid town.  I mean, there are, but there aren't any for me.  One of them told me I could get over depression with "positive thinking".  Yeah, thanks.  I feel super positive.  Positive that you're batshit insane.  Another one, I saw once, despite having six appointments with the place.  Every time I went there, they foisted me off on a different counsellor.  Repeating the same shit six times does not increase the amount of effective help by six.  Quite the opposite, actually.

Then I found someone who listened.  Who gave a shit!  And then, after the third appointment it turned completely pharmacological.  I go in, tell her how I'm doing (via Cliff Notes), and she writes me a new prescription.  I mean, yeah, thanks for the drugs, but what about actually listening?  What about recommending someone who will?  And when I asked her about a real counsellor she brushed me off.  "Go see this behavioural therapist."  "Is she a counsellor?"  "Sort of.  She does group sessions."  A "counsellor" who does group sessions?  Definitely my kind of thing, considering I didn't even tell anyone I was depressed until five years after it started, and I didn't looked for help until another two years after that.  Being terrified of social situations, a group really seems like the number one place to send me for counselling, right?  I know.  I totally agree.

Now I don't see my friends.  I used to see them regularly, two times a week.  Now I see them maybe once every two weeks.  Less if everything sucks.  I'm basically a recluse.  I don't bother leaving the house, I don't contact anyone or respond to messages sent to me, and I hardly see my family despite living in the same goddamn house.  I see my brother all the time, my sister a bit less than that.  My dad, maybe once a day.  My mom, once every few days.

I feel like crap all the time.   I try to do anything, but I never make it past the front door.  I am a fucked up piece of shit.  And I'm starting to really hate myself.  Again.  I thought I was over this.  Or at least that I was okay with myself.  Apparently I will always be this fucked up.