I have left the house twice in the past ten days. The anxiety has become such a beast (and not a “beautiful” one like that stupid ass book says) that I’ve been having to take my Klonopin first thing in the morning with the rest of my morning pills. I used to be able to wait until later in the day. Usually I’d take it before I left the house.
I am 30 years old & I have no friends. I talk to Edward. I talk to my therapist every week or two. I talk to my grandmother every so often, maybe about as often as the therapist. I have a doctor appointment (via webcam) today and I am excited to talk to someone during it even though I really have nothing to tell them.
I think being so isolated is making me depressed. Something is making me depressed. I need to remember to use my seasonal affective disorder lamp in the mornings. I hope it’s situational things making me depressed – those are easier to fix than the “purely” chemical sorts of depression.
I had a feeling of stagnation. It took me a while to find that word for it, to name the problem & know what it was. Nothing was really happening. I wasn’t moving forward, making any kind of progress or growing in any real kind of way. It’s hum drum hum drum. I applied to an arts school then realized it wasn’t worth taking on more student loans. Instead I’ve found an artist mentor. He’s going to help me learn to draw – a fundamental building block for almost all other mediums which I have never learned to do even on the most basic of levels. He’s given me assignments for this week. I’m excited about it.
Going anywhere further from home than my yard’s border feels like entering a halloween haunted house. Someone could jump out and scare you at any moment, things feel terrifying & there are a lot of loud, sudden noises. I don’t know why anyone goes to these things for fun. Home – with its walls, windows, doors, fences – keeps the safe things in, a little universe I can do my best to control. It also tries to keep the unsafe, can’t predict or control them things out.