So since the only three people blogging lately have been myself, my brother, and Cody (Scarface), you all have earned yourselves another depressing personal blog.
I was originally going to make a video about this, but I haven’t gotten the time when no one else is home, and I have a half hour to kill in newspaper, so here we go.
So I’ve been having some… issues lately. Panic attacks are becoming characteristic of me, my journals are almost exclusively reserved for my darkest, most depressing days, and I’m in a rut I can’t seem to climb out of. At long last, my mom convinced me to try therapy, after I’d refused for a while, thinking I could handle everything on my own.
Well, obviously, I can’t, so there you are. We’re getting my blood drawn first, so we can figure out if I have a chemical imbalance causing my extreme mood swings. Then I’ll go in to get a physical, where we’ll get a reference to a CHEAP therapist by my doctor, that I have admittedly not seen is several years. Joy.
So… pre-therapy thoughts. I’m not really sure what to expect. I’ve only agreed to a trial visit or two, because I’d rather be crazy and depressed and able to afford college than healthy and… stuck here the rest of my life. That’s probably a bad mindset to be in, which is partly why I need therapy. (ha. ha. Too early?) I’m not really sure what a therapist could tell me that Bart can’t tell me. “Bri… stop being retarded.” “Bri… you’re being crazy again. Shut up.” Because I know that most of these issues are self inflicted. As a writer, I thrive on being depressed, because it makes more believable characters. But I’d rather write uplifting stories that make both myself and my audiences feel better. Maybe I should write erotic romance novels? Eeh. Too far.
What I’m hoping to get out of this experience are the mind tools that can help me overcome things. I have trouble givings things up or away. This is apparent in my hoarding of mementos from my freshman, sophomore, and now junior years of high school, Dylan (cough), my hoarding of clothing that I might wear at one point or another, my hoarding of notes and movie tickets, and my hoarding of all the emails in my inbox, just in case.
I’m also hoping that this ridiculously expensive venture will live up to my hopes, because otherwise I’ll just come out more depressed. Unless they give me happy pills, in which case I’d be delightfully subdued all the time. (Ok, definitely too soon)
You sound like you’re havin it pretty rough right now, I didn’t know. Anything I can do to help?
Bri, I had that problem. So, if you need to talk you how to contact me. I’d be happy to help 🙂
Not a lot of people knew, Cody, but it’s ok. I wanted it that way. No one can really do anything, but thanks.
Thanks Ahmy 🙂 I think I’m ok for now. I’m working on exercising more and eating better, so that will definitely help, and once I get my blood drawn we’ll know if the solution is in pills. Woo.
But thanks, guys.