Nevah

The worst thing about this anxiety is that it completely supresses true feelings.

You wish for something, or for a second forget about restraining yourself and have a positive thought, a glimmer of hope, and right away there's this evil voice, like some witch in children's stories, cackling "don't even try, don't even hope, don't even think of trying, you're bad, you're so bad nobody will ever love you and you'll never be normal, never, NEVER, NEVAHH, ahahahahahah!"

And you try to fight it, you really do (and then you keep meeting therapists who don't believe you), but you're never succesfull. And eventually you stop feeling, wishing, thinking, hoping, because the voice is so bad and scary you never want to hear it again.

gnirpS

I'm tired.

Like, really tired.

On Sunday I slept till 1.30 PM! and even then I only got up because my mom called to ask why I was being late for lunch.

I have trouble going to sleep (I'm too wound up) and in the morning I can't get up for the life of me. I had set 4 alarms for this morning and still got up 10 minutes before work.

Also, I'm hungry. Mostly I crave sugar. Or carbohydrates. I think it may be partly from the Olanzapine. But I stuff myself everyday with chocolate, sweets or salty sticks and pretzels.

It shows too, of course... those 4 kg I got by stuffing with Mars bars didn't go away, on the contrary - I think I might have gotten 2 more.

Hm, but now I'm starting to think the two might be connected... the fatigue and the CH overdose. Hm.

I keep planning to eat less, but then I get hungry. And then I tell myself I'd rather have a few kg more and be happy then be really thin and depressed.

I got over the shock of the therapist quite quickly, actually. I was really surprised. I spent the weekend with my sis and came back home refreshed and calm, almost soothed. And last week was pretty good, actually. But the weekend saw me slipping down again.

But, also, I managed to meditate a little bit, and it is very refreshing. Sitting down and trying to stay erect hurts a bit, but when I open my eyes it feels ok.

So I have good days and bad days; and while good days are really good, bad ones are still quite bad.

(Today is one of those really bad ones. My limbs are heavy and my brain is like frozen. And I can't really think of a good way to finish this post.)

Fear

Scared, scared, scared.
Want to curl into a ball and hide, hide, hide.

So I went to the psychiatrist expecting a new medicine, and instead it turns out I lost her.
Well, not yet, but she said she doesn't know what to do with me.
And that makes her person nr.7 who couldn't help me.

Scared, scared, scared. Hide, hide, hide.

I feel a milion miles away from everybody else. And everytime I try to reach out and the person out there doesn't reach back, the distance grows a few miles longer.

Am I really that broken, that nobody can help me with my pain?

Scared, scared, scared. Hurt, hurt, hurt. Hide, hide, hide.

Anyway, she suggested I get hospitalized at some psych facility, for 3 months of intensive psychotherapy. I googled it a bit and it doesn't sound all that bad.

But, I wonder, could it really help me? And going for 3 months to a psych hospital! What do I tell people? The rumor will spread and I'm afraid I will lose people I know (couldn't call them friends, but yeah).

Why is she so set on this Zoloft? I mean, would it hurt to try another AD, instead of telling me I am medicated enough and it should be helping, when it's not?