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Listening to: From the Choirgirl Hotel. Not for long, though... it's not really matching my mood quite like I was expecting it too.

Currently Reading: Just barely started Jonathan Lethem's Gun, With Occasional Music. Kind of saving it for the train, as well as a stack of others (both fiction and non). Also, I recently read Laurie Notaro's I Love Everybody (and Other Atrocious Lies): True Tales of a Loudmouth Girl (again) in like two days, and peed myself laughing. Highly recommended. I also devoured The Broke Diaries by Angela Nissel in, like, a mere few days. Laughed until I peed. Also highly recommended.

Wishing: income. Lots of it. Other than that, life's pretty good.

I couldn't be more The current mood of ronkc@diaryland.com at www.imood.com right now.

Buy "Civilised Conversation..." Merchandise! Please? All the cool kids are doing it....

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Do you love me?

28 September 2001 | 11:18 PM

Relapsing?

Okay.

I think I'm having a bit of a depression relapse. I thought I was totally done with all of this, but that doesn't seem to be the case. Perhaps it is because I've cut my anti-depression meds back to one-third its original dose. Perhaps it's because I'm exhausted. Perhaps it's because I didn't get the job for which I applied (and expected to be a shoe-in), that I haven't seen my mental health professional in a little over two weeks, that my dermatitis and psoriasis issues remain, as well as my weight and back pain. Oh, and the depression, of course.

My eating habits have become more bingey. I won't eat for a set of several hours, hoping to lose some weight by not really eating, and then I break down and gobble like a fucking turkey.

I sleep like a mo-fo. I have to have my Mom call, long distance, to wake my sorry ass up in the morning, because an alarm-clock isn't doing it, anymore!

I mope. I sigh. I cry. I've been withdrawing from friends. From everyone. I just don't want to see anyone. I just don't have the energy I know it takes to smile and be happy and look people in the face and to know they're looking at me.

I've been talking to my Mom a lot. She offered to fly me home for the weekend, promising to return me on Sunday night. Tomorrow is her birthday. I sent her a card and a gift. She would like me there, though. Unfortunately, besides funds, energy, and Chapel Choir, I won't be able to make it.

I think I may stay at home for Christmas, though. Plua, Mom is going to have the car worked on before I get home, and she thinks she'll let me drive it home. Sigh. That will help a lot, I think.

I even went greeting card shopping. It cheered me up a little, but nothing spectacular.

I went to the dermatologist today. I explained that I'm not sure I'm making much progress, and that it's really difficult to apply three different creams on different schedules, being a college student and all. She concurred that it is, in fact, a "drag," as she said, but wasn't much help as far as low-maintenance options are concerned. I just have to switch around a buch of creams and double most of what I'm applying. Bleugh. This means I'll be twice as stinky and greasy and oily as I am right now. That should be a *real* treat.

Plus, I'm as fat as ever. I can barely fit into my fat clothes. Mom said that she's on this one anti-depressant that's making her lose weight like we did on PhenFen. (I loved PhenFen. The bastard FDA took it away from me. And don't try to lecture me on this, because the lecture will turn into a debate, and I will win. I've had practice. I know what you're going to say, and I have research to back up the responses that will make you stop and think about the topic. So, let's stay friends and say no more about it.) I asked my Mom why she didn't tell me about this miracle drug sooner. She didn't really know, but I guess that's beside the point.

I made an appointment with my physician, however. I know that sometimes, insurance companies will pay for (at least partially) for certain surgeries. My ultimate goal is to get my internist to convince my insurance company to pay for stomach stapling. This way, I will lose lots of weight (which is my dream). As an aside, I read where some psoriasis sufferers who were in political prison camps or something lived on a near-starvation diet, which caused their psoriasis symptoms to decrease significantly, if not totally. I think the stomach stapling will help with my weight (and indirectly, my depression, my back pain, et cetera) and my skin. Please, Saint Jude, please grant that I may be blessed with staples of the stomach. Amen.

I also made an appointment with my psychiatrist, I want to clear up this non-stop-sleeping deal, as well as this depression, and I want bottles and bottles of this miracle weight-loss/anti-depressant my Mom raves about! Because damn.

I hate feeling like this. I felt like this in High School. I would pray to God that I would go to sleep and not wake up. Life was seriously so bad that eternal rest was preferable. Life wasn't worth it for me then. Not to say that it isn't now, it's just that I feel the same sluggishness, helplessness, hopelessness, et cetera from which I was suffering then.

It's truly a curse.

But what are you going to do, eh?

Bollocks.

Smile of the Day:

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