Afraid…

I just looked on my insurance card and the primary care physician I requested isn’t there. However, interestingly enough, they gave me this guy that is trained in both psychiatry and general practice. Even the nurse practitioner has experience in both. It is supposed to be a more holistic approach to everything. But they aren’t open on the weekends, or late in the afternoon. I need refill on a prescription coming up soon, so will probably just go in for that, and see what happens.

Someone asked me at work again today if everything is ok. I don’t want to lie, but really just don’t want to talk about things. And I don’t want to be mean, but I don’t want my business spread all around work. It seems like the folks here, as soon as they hear something rumor-worthy, everyone knows. I don’t want my boss knowing that dying sounds better than going to work. I’m sure I’d get weird looks for that. But it’s true.

I’ve thought about going to a priest to talk about this. But what good would that do? Sort of like what good would going back to counseling do? Everything that could be said to me has already been said, and I still chose the path that I am on. There isn’t much more that anyone can do for me. There’s no point in me wasting their time and my time chasing after a dream that I know won’t come true.

I have so much more that I want to say, but am afraid, even here.

Writer’s Block

I seem to have writer’s block. I don’t see how talking (or writing) about what’s going on will help. It hasn’t helped in the past, and I have little hope that it will help now. Besides everything that I have that I need to say, I’ve already said, and I’m sure people are tired of reading the same thing over and over again. I’ll try for today, but I’m not promising how much I will write in the future.

So another depressing day at work. Another day I wonder why I live. I keep thinking that there must be a medicine out there somewhere that will help me, something that will give me some relief. But, then I remember that looking for something that works and helps is worse than the actual depression itself. Even if the medicine doesn’t have any side effects, just knowing another medicine has been marked off the list makes me more depressed. It’s one more thing that won’t be able to help me. Knowing that the list of things that would help has gotten one less shorter makes it harder to cope with this. Doesn’t that sound messed up?