yesterday’s counseling appointment

I once was told by a counselor that my depression was faked and was depressed for the mere sake of getting friends.  I’ve come to the conclusion that she’s bloody wrong.  Just about every friend in person I tell ends up dumping me when they find out about the depression, or at least how bad it is.  I have to bite my tongue when a friend asks me how I’m doing.  Reply with a smile I’m fine … or I’m tired.  Everyone’s tired.  Not everyone feels like dying would be for the better.  I have a few friends on the Internet that I guess I could call friends, but they can’t hold me when I cry.  Or listen while I *try* to talk.  I’ve decided I’m in this alone.  

I had a counseling appointment yesterday.  I gave my counselor a letter.  I’ve found the letters are easier to write if I pretend everything happened to someone else, and that I’m telling that person’s story and not my own.  It’s just hard to keep all my pronouns straight sometimes.  It’s when I have to connect events with my own life that things get hard to deal with.  But, as with everything, disconnecting myself from what happened takes energy.  Energy that I don’t have.  But hell, facing it as if it were my own takes energy I don’t have too.
  
It gets so hard to think, to concentrate.  I try to focus, but it’s like I’m in a daze.  I don’t expect any of you to understand.  When things get really bad, it’s like my body goes on and functions without me there.  I’ve typed many a emails to folks or even blog entries, and come back and think, wow… I typed that… I must really be messed up.

Back to the counseling appointment, he wanted to know who else had hurt me.  I couldn’t even bring myself to talk about anything.  Not even simple answers that should have been like walking blindfolded through a flat pasture.  You know things like my dad said repeatedly that he wish I was never born.  How hard is that to say out loud?  I just sat there, frozen in thought, trying to keep myself planted on ground instead of completely getting lost in the fog that is supposed to be my brain.  I trust him alot, how come I can’t focus my thoughts enough to tell him?  To talk about stuff out loud, in person?

It’s so damn hard, dealing with this. Wondering if I’m ever going to find peace.  Wondering if I even want peace.  

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