Week 2

Week 2 is starting off OK. My therapist is on vacation which makes me a nervous wreck. I did see the church counselor twice yesterday-once alone and once with Mom. The mom session was very awkward. I admitted that I felt like she thought I was a bad parent. She didn't correct the assumption. It hurt. Alot. On the other hand, I did try to leave them orphans which is not the sign of good parenting. So, maybe I deserved the silent condemnation that is often my mother.

I am exhausted constantly. It is one of the effects of depression and I hate it. I am so lethargic and it makes my mind soft. I feel like a blob instead of like me. No matter how much I sleep, I can't feel sharp and aware. I dread going to sleep every night because I just wake up. It is so uncomfortable. I am just up at 3 AM and my thoughts are already out of the gate like a racehorse. Instead of waking up slowly, I am just jarred awake. I resent it and it causes panic attacks before I go to bed. It is a destructive cycle.

Many people have been pressuring me about working. I don't feel like I am ready. I feel like it will be too much pressure and I will start crying in the classroom. On the other hand, the kids need health insurance and they need income. I have an obligation to them. Zak needs braces desperately. That is going to start a panic attack over being a failure so I will stop there.

I applied for tutoring positions and some writing positions. Absolutely no response as of yet but it has only been twenty-four hours. I have to relax. It is a hard economy out there.

Just mentioning working has made my heart race and a panic attack to start. I am feeling cold and shaky. I just really think I need time to work through my issues. It has been the most traumatic year of my life and I think, deep down, I am not ready. People around me, though, worry I am hiding out and indulging in self-pity. Maybe I am but I don't want to fill my life with outside stuff until I work on my inside stuff. I have to fix this depression. I have to fix my suicidial tendencies and deal with my shit. Otherwise, I will try again. Maybe not today or tomorrow but ten, fifteen years in the future, I will. I know it like I know my own body.

I have fallen in the mud. I am wallowing in the mud like a pig currently but I am not sure if it is a bad thing. Wallowing is something I don't do. I keep cleaning myself off, pushing my feelings in the deep crevices of my soul and marching on. Is it healthy? Hell to the no or I wouldn't have attempted suicide. Maybe I should stay dirty for awhile.