Me, Interrupted

I'm getting to be worried here, to be honest. It's been easy to just shut my eyes to reality and tell myself I'm just during a break, a healing period.

But I don't feel much healed. Granted, I'm not obsessed and weeping over it anymore, which possibly means It Could Be Much Worse, but that isn't precisely great, is it? I've been back and "healing" for seven months, yet have I made any progress? I wonder.

All right, I'll give myself some credit; I guess the very fact that I'm not just curled up in a little ball while cackling and muttering to myself...

hey - hold it. I'm surfing while I post, a nasty habit of mine --which partially explains my usual incoherence-- and I came across this piece of post in dt.net:

"Empathy pains, illnesses and distress are caused when a person is effected by the ENERGY of another living thing. This is what makes elderly alzheimers patients calm and happy when they pat a cat and what makes depressed people happy when they garden. And those are just the basic examples."

How about that. So that's why I feel the compulsion to sneak to the roof or the back yard every occassion I have to gape at my plants. I weed a bit, I move them around a lot, I pray that the wind won't blow my makeshift greenhouse away, but mostly I just look at them.

So that's why I've been feeling better. Isn't that a splendid thing to know. And stupid Bel is right one more time; yes, I'm probably still depressed.

Anyway, I'm trying to be proactive and shit about it, but I'm totally stuck. I keep procrastinating the decision-making because none of the options seems quite right.

And that I'm dilly-dallying this much at my age is even more pathethic, so I need to do something soon.

But I feel so lost. I feel like such a drama queen saying that I have no one to talk to; after all, it's not like I live on an iceberg. But again, no one is quite right. My parents are, of course, totally out of the question. My brother doesn't care. My friends I've cut contact with for reasons I don't understand myself. And even though I wish I had someone to talk to, none of my now estranged friends would do for the kind of help I need now, even if I was up for the task of updating them about my ongoings--which isn't the case.

This only leaves Tim and Bel. I can't talk openly to Tim, because it'll hurt him and I already distress him enough whenever we do talk about what's going on with me.

Bel is the only one I kind of open to, but he's oh so difficult. In the first place, there are some things I just can't discuss with him, and these are issues I also desperately need to work out. And second, I've already told how crazy I go whenever I'm near him. But maybe I haven't been clear on just how bad it is; well, I behave like a seventeen year old without brains, a la Brittany Murphy in Girl, Interrupted, but without the chicken, the self mutilation or the ugly robe. So yeah, Bel's shaky ground.

I made an appointment with a psychologist today. I got a number from a friend in December and I'd been putting off the call. Due to my recent concern I finally braved up to call her and make the appointment. I don't know if I'll keep it, however. I asked about the fee for the consult and I can't possibly afford it. I have a huge credit debt I'm slowly paying off and it's just impossible. So joke's on me; I have no one to talk to and I can't afford therapy. I'm fucked.

I wish I could work this out by myself, but I clearly can't.

Did I mention I'm worried?