I'm listening to Radiohead right now. Perfect depressed music for me.
We're going on about 30 hours of an episode. I thought I'd be out of it by now. This isn't normal for me.
A few times I've considered going in to the hospital, but I don't want to get to that point. I don't want to go and talk in group therapy, I don't want a psychiatrist I don't know to tell me that I should try new meds, I don't want to give up my personal belongings and share a room with someone I don't know. And be expected to talk. Because they would surely not release me until I open up and share and I don't want to do that.
And yet here I am blogging.
Nasser is coming home early for the second day in a row. Because I suck at life. Because I can't get through this alone and when I'm this bad, I can only really open up to him. Because I need help. Because I am not strong enough? That's how it feels, but I can't say that because that destroys me.
I got an appointment with my therapist for this Thursday. I'm hoping that will help.
I
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