I’ve been venturing out of my usual work-home routine in an attempt to fight off my depression.  So far, I’ve discovered social situations emotionally exhaust me.  All the effort of interacting, of lying, drives me further away from reality toward something I hate, a life too normal, a passive observer.  I find myself watching TV shows and window shopping online.

Thankfully, I finally woke up today and did something for myself.  I called my therapist and scheduled an appointment.  It hurts my pride to admit I’ve been ignoring my therapist’s calls for some weeks now.

It’s something I do when I get really bad: I abandon my therapy, sometimes even my meds, though that’s not the case now.  I slowly start to ignore people, slack on my responsibilities, piss some people off.  The last time I stopped going to therapy, I stayed away for a year, hiding out with my books and my boyfriend at the time.  It took me another year of weekly sessions to start taking control of my life.

So, I should be proud that I caught myself long before I lost complete control.  I fasted and feasted the last few days.  For weeks, I’ve regretted every moment I’m not in my home.  I’ve passively endured the days, but today, I took an action.

It wasn’t premeditated.  Suddenly, I was locating her number in my contacts.  Yet that isn’t what surprises me.  I picked myself up with some help from Sam, yet only how little I feel right now toward today or any day, past or future, resonates.  And somehow, that’s a good thing.

Maybe it’s dissociation, but I’m going to choose to believe I’m just feeling at peace, feeling like it’s all going to be okay.  I’m in an up mood, I think, but I’m trying to trust it.  I’m trying to learn how to trust myself again.  So far, I’ve managed to stop blaming myself for the assaults and abuses, which in turn has quieted the screaming insults I hurt myself with all day.  If I can sustain this, I know I’ll find my former vivacity.

I don’t believe I’ll find my former self.  I don’t even believe she’s a healthy someone to rediscover.  But my old love of life: I miss that.  That’s worth rescuing from this depression.  If I focus on that, if I just commit to enjoying this goddam life the best way I know how, and I trust that I know how, I’ll be okay.  I just have to trust that I’ll be okay.