The dumbest song ever written: Back in the Saddle Again by Gene Autry, but I have had that song stuck in my head. I feel that I am indeed back in the saddle again. I am going to get out of this slump. I am!
I am depressed. There. I said it. Isn't admitting you have a problem the first step toward getting help? I am depressed. I have a problem. I haven't passed a day where tears haven't come. I can't sleep but can't wake up either. I can't eat and then eat too much. But I am done with letting that stand in my way.
At work on Monday I went to the bathroom and let myself cry, wiped the tears from my cheeks and then went back to work, instead of going home. I went to the library with Ted that night and got some homework done. And although I missed a class today, I don't plan on doing so again. (I know I will but not regularly).
I plan to buy some St. John's Wart, take my vitamins, make Richard Simmons a regular thing, and go to bed early; in short everything my mom has always wanted me to do. But, Mom, I just don't think I can take counseling again. It may be unfair but I blame counseling for how badly I did last year overall. I wallowed in weakness instead of pushing myself. I know, the connection between grades and counseling was probably this: both resulted from the depression. I don't want a counselor in my life.
I want the Lord to tell me He loves me, to give me strength and hope. I want friends to get me up each morning and to the library in the evenings. I want help in motivating myself to exercise and sleep. I don't want to be told that I have fears of abandonment and failure. I know this. I want to beat these fears. I want to succeed. And that scares the crap out of me.
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I hope you're going to be around tonight, because I want to chat. I'll stop by -- maybe around 7ish.
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