Blah, Blah, fuckin' Blah...

I am thinking about going into therapy (again). I don't know what it is, but for the past couple of weeks I've just been feeling really sad and lonely. A few weeks ago, I wrote that I woke up one morning feeling an overwhelming sense of dread. Twenty-four hours later, I come to learn that my friend, Eddie, died of cancer. That feeling of dread has been hanging over me ever since and I can't figure out what's wrong with me. It could be burnout from work and the commute involved. It could be lack of sales, bringing with it the lack of funds. It could be the heat. It could a combination of everything. I tried getting back into the gym thing, but I can feel that I'm on the verge of injuring my shoulder again (which is the main reason I stopped going almost two years ago).

About two and a half years ago, I sought therapy. I was really at a low point in my life and the thoughts going through my head were constant and quite scary. Upon my initial interview, the therapist had me fill out a questionnaire and told me to be completely honest with my answers. After handing back the completed form, she looked it over, excused herself nervously and returned a few minutes later with the on-call doctor. He suggested to me to that I should consider voluntarily admitting myself into a hospital. Apparently, my honesty scared them into believing that I was going to kill myself. I assured them that, although the idea was certainly in the forefront, I was too chickenshit to do anything about it.

The doctor prescribed Zoloft (about the strongest daily dosage allowed) and I began my sessions with my therapist. Almost immediately, I started to feel better just being able to talk. I don't know how much of an effect the Zoloft had on me, but I assume there was some. I figured, if I'm taking a drug, it should make me feel giddy and happy, or at least light-headed. The drug did give me some unpleasant side effects, mostly stomach problems and sleepiness so, after taking half of my prescribed dosage over the next couple of weeks, I stopped.

The talks with my therapist helped a great deal and I started to feel good about myself again, but unfortunately, after about a month, she announced that she was taking her practice out to the suburbs. She recommended I continue my sessions with someone else, but I declined. I have a hard enough time opening up to someone, let alone a complete stranger. I wasn't prepared to reopen wounds that were already beginning to mend.

However, after two and a half years, I have managed to keep some things that I have learned from my sessions. I've learned that I can't keep things bottled up inside. If something is bothering me, I'm gonna let it be known. (although there are a couple things going on in my life right now that I don't know what to do about)

My feelings this time around aren't the same as before. I don't have the suicidal thoughts racing through my head. Just sadness. Maybe I'm on the verge of another bout of depression, I don't know. One of the biggest things I wish for is someone truly significant in my life. Everytime I feel that I have found someone, I am quickly dropped back down to earth and back into reality. But I also realize that I can't be happy with someone unless I'm happy with myself. But it's like a double-edged sword. I mean, how can I be happy with myself if one of the things that is bothering me so much is the feeling of being alone?

Calgon, take me awaaaaaay!!!!!