I couldn’t get out of bed today. Even though I was feeling beyond physically sick from too much sleep. I think I fell asleep around one a.m. and finally dragged myself out of bed around five p.m. [br][br]

I cried too. Didn’t know why. Probably because I felt sick, didn’t want to get up, had nothing to do, and couldn’t sleep anymore. [br][br]

I’m glad I’m not on buspirone anymore. I found out after the fact that it doesn’t help with panic disorder. So now I’m having a grand ol’ time with klonopin. I like it alot. Well, that is, an hour after I take it when it starts to kick in and for about three hours after that. For the rest of the four hours until I can take it again I’m constantly reminding myself to relax and calm down and surely no I won’t have a panic attack. [br][br]

I figure when the zoloft starts to work in about a month or so, I won’t have to take the klonopin every eight hours. It’s weird waking up, looking at my bedside table, and seeing bottles of prescription and over the counter medicines. [br][br]

I miss working. I miss leaving the house. I work in a flippin’ state mental institution and I can’t get myself together. Thankfully I don’t work directly with patients. Obviously, I wouldn’t be of any help. Working was the only thing that kept me going during the week anyway. I’m not in school. I have two friends that I see every so often. I have nothing else going on in my life. I want work to be my life. I try to make it my life as much as possible. [br][br]

My dad asked how I was doing today. I wanted desperately to tell him I’m sad. But I know that he’ll say what every one else is saying, that I’ll get through this and things will get better and just to be patient. I can tell myself these things, too. And they don’t really make me feel any better. I just feel like I had my shit together. Or if it wasn’t all together it was getting there. Now I feel like I’ve fallen back and I can’t do anything about it. I have to wait. So everyday is the same. I sleep, I wake up, I eat, I walk sometimes, I watch tv till I feel no more functioning brain cells, I get online, I watch tv, I go to bed. Repeat process. I can’t even muster the desire to read anymore. I love reading. And I can’t focus enough to do it. [br][br]

Ah well. It’ll get better.