Today I didn’t hurt myself, even though I was hurting. I didn’t have a drink, even though I opened the liquor cabinet, took out a bottle of Johnny Walker and thought about it. I didn’t get much work done because this has been perhaps my roughest stretch since the days right after my suicide attempt in March. In fact, I left the office because I broke down (I don’t recommend it) and was kind of a hot mess. I didn’t feel like doing anything but ended up finishing a book, went to the mall and walked down to the library.
I talked to my mom and dad about some of my anxieties and the depression that’s been blanketing me recently. I’ll admit, I’m worried about how I’ll be when they go back to Georgia. I get lonely and isolated and struggle to motivate myself to do anything remotely productive with down time if left to my own devices. When I was living in Alexandria and again this past winter I found temporary solace at the bottom of a bottle of beer (or a dozen) or a glass or two (bottles) of wine, etc. I would get drunk enough to think that I was good company (ha!).
The depression has caused a drop-off in work productivity and that then triggers a round of anxiety, which leads, you guessed it, more depression! So I’m kind of in a rut right now and would be completely despairing if it weren’t for my parents recognizing the slide. I’m in the rut and while I don’t know exactly how I’ll get out of it I know that alcohol and not talking about my feelings aren’t part of the solution.
Tomorrow I have another appointment with my therapist (I missed it last week). Maybe we adjust my medication. Maybe we consider things like mixing in group therapy. I don’t know. I know something has to change. I’m open to that change.