I still find myself struggling with the dark thoughts. I won’t be able to see my psychologist for a month, per my parents’ request. I saw her yesterday and was honest with her. Her opinion was therapy isn’t as affective when the visits are spaced out that much. I feel I have to honor my parents’ request considering I live with them. I don’t see a light at the end of the tunnel like I used to. As a teenager, I thought—and was told—college would be better for me rather than high school. My maturity level was more appropriate for a college setting.
Well I feel I have failed yet again. I left school in October due to stress and lack of money. I have so many fears, both understandable and irrational (to some anyway). I am scared to drive, as I have stated in so many previous blogs. I don’t feel the love of my family…maybe because hugs aren’t as common as I believe they should be. I feel like ‘I love you’ is said more out of habit rather than meaning much. I feel a need to hide my depression from my family. My cousin, L and my aunt (her mom) struggle with depression. My aunt takes a medication for it and my cousin is not on anything. My cousin has a very strong belief in God. That is what keeps her going. I want to feel closer with them…I want to feel I can confide in them. This may sound weird but I feel since I am older than L, I need to be strong for her or at least keep my problems away from her. I have told certain family members pieces of my depression (and my parents told them too) but I don’t think any of them know the whole story or how dark it can and has become.
If I were to be honest with my parents (which has proven to be a mistake in the past) I would tell them I don’t see a light at the end of the tunnel, I don’t have confidence in being able to trust in God or others for that matter. When I tell someone (face-to-face) how dark my thoughts often get, I tense knowing there is a possibility I will end up in the hospital. If I knew the costs could be taken care of and that I could find help and understanding, I would be honest and ask for help. But the hospitals I have access to and that insurance will partially cover, are a joke. No offense to those who struggle with drug or alcohol addiction but they have better resources than those who struggle with mental illnesses. I often wonder if I could go to a long-term treatment facility, would they know how to help me? Would they “help me learn to stand on my own” and love myself?
My psychologist wants me to keep writing but my subjects all have a negative tone. Sure I can fantasize happy events and give my characters what I lack in life but I find myself wishing more strongly I was in their shoes: a wife, a mother, enjoying life and feeling loved and cared for. Maybe I fear rejection and pain so strongly that I always have my guard up. I wonder what it would be like to let it down? To be free?