Amas-Veritas.com

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I'm so depressed I can't even turn on the TV to distract myself from it. My meds aren't working and I don't even want to take them so I guess it's good I see my Psychiatrist Friday. I don't have any faith that he'll change my meds because he's THAT kind of doctor...the kind that is there to PRESCRIBE meds but prefers not to give them to you. He's useless. It's times like this that I wish I'd never left my last doctor who had the exact opposite problem. He LOVED prescribing meds. You'd be at the point where you're on so many that you couldn't tell what's working, what's causing side effects, and what's just making things worse. Unfortunately there's no middle ground...and that doctor who prescribes everything is a jerk who yawns or sleeps through appointments, makes you wait three hours and then cancels you. When I look at it that way I guess the on-time doctor who hates prescribing anything is the better option. It's just that life happens and it's going to continue happening for the REST of my life whether he helps me or not, no matter how awful things get. I can't live like this. what do you do when every moment of every day, year after year, is unbearable?

There's this guy. I really like him, and I'm only writing about this because it's after the "read more" link and it's pretty hard to find this site by searching my name unless you know what you're looking for...anyhow we worked together from 2004-6 I think and we got along pretty well, worked the same hours, etc. He had a girlfriend so I just enjoyed going to work and getting to see him. It made a bad situation tolerable. I left in '06 and it sucked...I thought I'd never speak to him again. Luckily, I've kept in touch with some other people there and a year ago I asked one of them to have him email me a picture of his son...hoping I guess that he would and we'd talk again. Well, we only emailed back and forth, but like every day. I have a habit of destroying even the simplest friendship so I quickly destroyed this one as well. He had left his girlfriend and then got back together with her for the sake of his son, but in the meantime he and I were emailing. It got to a point where I had to say he needed to take some time to decide if he was going to stay with his girlfriend or not, but that I'd be here if he made a decision. I was devastated, but it had to be done. I have no boundaries, and this was me protecting myself.

Fast forward a year. I've gotten over him, accepted the fact that I'll probably be alone...forever, and I'm okay with that. I don't trust anyone, especially men, so if I meet someone, great, if not I have to be okay with that. Then he emails me and tells me he left his girlfriend and moved out. ...Honestly, I was upset because I had moved on, among other reasons. Then, because my whole life I've gone from overweight to underweight, back and forth so many times, I now have the issue of not being the underweight person I was when we worked together. I don't date, so I have no idea what guys care about, but my whole existence is weight and food so it's hard for me to imagine that it's not important to everyone else. Anyhow, I broke down and emailed him a picture when he asked for one (which I realized yesterday is not as recent as I originally thought), and told myself I wouldn't email him again until he emailed (or texted or called) me...just in case it did matter to him. He's emailed me since then but I'm finding that I'm so depressed I'm not even bothered that I haven't heard from him much and I'm not wanting to email him AT ALL. I'm not angry about anything, I just don't care. I don't care about anything, except how awful everything feels.

I want to cut REALLY bad. Two weeks ago I cut and it had been 14.5 months since I cut last. That's the longest I've ever gone. I've never even made it a year before. The only reason I cut that time was because my father left a razor blade out on the sink for like a week. As my therapist put it, it's like leaving out a bottle of alcohol and asking the alcoholic not to drink it. It doesn't work that way. He set me up for failure. Luckily I was unable to find ANY razor blades in the garage last I checked so the only alternatives aren't pleasant: scissors and knives and stuff. I'll probably end up cutting, but hopefully my psychiatrist will change my meds Friday. My therapist has talked to him twice already so I hope he'll listen this time. When I go in for my appointment, he seems to think I "look great"...but all I do is sit there and answer his questions. I wish my therapist could be there with me to explain to him because I can't do it myself. A ten minute appointment just isn't enough for me to convince him I'm not okay.