So the chiller helped calm my heart and made breathing easier, but then what should happen? Oh, just that pity party I was determined not to throw for myself. I ended up feeling depressed as hell. Still am. I feel bad for BOTH of us. I hate putting this on Tom but there’s no way I could just pretend to him that it doesn’t exist. Sure wish there was, though, but there’s no hiding it. I know he wouldn’t want me to, but I still feel bad that he has to deal with this shit, too. 

I sometimes think if only I could drive and keep a schedule. Getting out, meeting more people, and doing more things… might actually help, though I honestly don’t know where I’d go, what I’d do or who I’d meet. Or even if it would really help for that matter. But it seems something up there is determined to slam every door possible shut on me. I DO have a sleep disorder and I DO have a driving phobia, so I ain’t going anywhere beyond the park. While I’m still a homebody and prefer to just hang out by myself when I’m not with him, the simple act of meeting a friend for lunch that seems so normal is out of the question for me. I realize this every time I read about this sort of thing in a book or see it in a movie. 

Gonna make this topic a private entry. It’s almost embarrassing to tell the world I’m that NOT with the times and that cut off from your ordinary everyday things in life. On the other hand, if I could’ve kept a schedule and driven a car all along, I’d be working full-time and probably wishing I could be home more and have to deal with fewer people. But a local friend would be nice at times. The thing is you can’t force friendship any more than you can love. You know how I say you find these things when you aren’t looking? Well, I wasn’t looking for Tom. I did actively pick up the phone and call Andy back in 1988, but I didn’t know a friendship would develop. I didn’t even know the guy was gay. Maybe another thing that made me hesitant for a while, even if some may say it was silly, was what may happen if the friendship ended. If people like Nane and Aly lived locally, all would be fine if we had a falling out. But what about people like Kim and Molly? 

The biggest thing is I want to STOP feeling anxious and depressed every other day. I want the unwanted thoughts to stop and to be able to always focus on the positive things in life and the here and now. But… how? HOW? Why can’t I be like Tom? First I admired Tom. Now I envy him. 

Later… 

Last night was an absolutely shitty night. I want to write for the sake of it being therapeutic, but I don’t want to dwell on it and worry others needlessly, so I’ll just cut to the chase. 

About 24 hours ago I took a chill pill and then fell into a deep depression. It was strange, shocking and just truly horrible. I cried on and off for hours. Every worst fear, possible or not, seemed to race through my mind. I began to believe I’d never get better and I still wonder this at times. I used to think as soon as I felt better that maybe that was it, it was over. But now I know better. It’ll be back. It seems to be an every-other-day thing. Having a good day today means the shit will hit the fan tomorrow, only most of what I feel is anxiety. Also, my problems are usually long-term. Like years instead of weeks or months, though I’m trying not to think of that or I’ll scream. 

As a child as well as some of my early 20s I had bouts of depression though I was usually aware of the reason behind it. As an adult, when I went from turning my emotions inward to outward, the negative emotion I experienced most was anger. While I can still feel anger and while I’ve had my anxious moments in the past, I have felt more anxiety in the last 3 months than in the last 30 years! All negative emotions suck, but I’d rather be pissed than anxious. Still, I became more like a man in that department. Women tend to turn inward when they’re hurting or angry while men tend to turn outward. Well, I got a bit more “manly” in that aspect, like I said. I became angry, defensive and defiant in the faces of those eager to wrong me as opposed to one who would tuck her tail and run off crying. I never have and never would harm any innocent and unsuspecting souls, but I would lash out at the world in general in other ways in the past usually with hurtful words or some kind of stupid prank. I still may say things I shouldn’t at times be it on or offline, but I try not to make needless trouble for others or for myself. 

On the 30th I’ll be returning to the Linder Psychiatric Group to see Dana, which I’ll call Dalia online. I’ve seen her once before. It’s just that I thought – or at least hoped – my anxiety would back off. I thought it was mostly due to the levothyroxine side effects, but now that I see that that didn’t have as big a part in it as I thought, though it did have some, I’m obviously not able to fight this on my own. Even if she can’t help me figure out what makes me tick, maybe she can at least make me tick a lot less often. I don’t know if talk therapy will be enough of a helping hand or if medication will be needed as well, but I don’t care. I’ll do whatever it takes to help myself feel better, even though I never expected to be dealing with this shit so late in life. So much for thinking only teens and 20-somethings go batty, LOL. 

There are both therapists and shrinks at this medical building I’m going to, so if she feels I need medication, at least for a while, she can hook me up with someone there. I hate to risk an addiction, but if that’s the risk I must take, so be it. 

I just want to nip it in the bud before it worsens. Right now I’m not disabled. I can still function in life. But I don’t want to let it get to the point where one day I wake up and say, “You know what? I’ve had enough of this misery. Today’s the day I kill myself and end it all forever.” 

Tom and I went walking for a while after work. Nothing too strenuous. Just enough to keep in shape. I haven’t cared about the weight-loss part of it for a while now, but that’s ok. The anxiety’s doing it for me. I’ve always been like that. The better I feel, the more I eat. Anytime I’m anxious, depressed or sick, however, I don’t have much of an appetite.