{{{{Becky}}}}
Hang in there, ok?
Please call them, Becky. Even if you think it’s stupid, call them. We’d all prefer tears to blood, okay?
Sorry, I just lost it. I try, and I figure, and I try to work things out and nothing is working. I’m just having a really hard time right now. Acceptance isn’t my thing but I guess I better learn it.
Thank you all for caring. Maybe I can talk about things later if I can get my head on straight. 
At least I’m still typing.
Acceptance is very hard. I mean, it’s so simple, and yet it’s so hard to implement. Especially when everywhere you turn you feel so “wrong”.
I think the talking-about-things part actually comes before the head-on-straight part. That was my problem at least… I could never get the threads to line up, like that one screw on the $20 book shelf from target that looks like its going on straight but never does? I had a long tearful chat with my mom one day, and it was pretty much all up hill from there.
Talking is good for all of us, so please share as much as you feel comfortable.
A technical question for the group: I’m taking St John’s Wort at the moment, but I’m struggling to get all three doses every day. Most of the time, I just forget, but sometimes I just don’t care about it. I gave up all together a couple times, but I finally got into the habit of taking one dose every morning. Is there any harm in taking all three in the morning? I have my vitamins and my heart-burn pill at the same time, so I’ve got a good routine.
I am genetically prone to depression, but by and large I’ve gotten that under control via various supplements and lifestyle changes.
But the last few weeks I have had depression mostly due to various traumatic personal relationships. I am hoping in a few weeks I will be better than I am now. But last friday I got drunk and kept drinking more and more to kill the pain. But all that did was make me vomit (that is only the second or third time I’ve ever gotten sick from drinking. I always know when to stop before I get sick but I think I just wanted my emotions to stop). At least I don’t get hangovers, ha. I got that going for me. I drank almost a fifth of whiskey and didn’t get any hangover.
I don’t think that counts as depression, that is more of a transitory state instead of the long term personality trait of depression. I’m hoping in a few weeks I will be back to my normal state which isn’t exactly great, but is better than where I am now.
I’m right there with you, Becky. 
Everything in my life is totally, hopelessly fucked, and if I had my way, I’d just wink out of existence.
I’m sorry you guys feel that way. I’m not going to pretend I don’t feel the same way myself sometimes (esp lately), but I’m sorry that people can and do get that low.
I’ve been hibernating like a bear. Tomorrow—reality.
<font=Dory>Just keep typing, just keep typing…</font>
I am very blah today. I had a very big and overwhelming weekend and now if I had the chance I’d stay at home and hide under the covers. Unfortunately I don’t have that chance.
I don’t know about that, but I feel compelled to point out that if you’re on birth control, St John’s Wort will eff that all completely up. I know anecdote /= data, but I know one child born because SJW did not play nice with his mom’s BC.
unloads pallet load of {{{{}}}}, leaves lying around for all who need it
Yesterday was both good and bad. I got up, got dressed and did various householdy type stuff for a few hours even though I was <this close> to a full blown panic attack.
The bad part was that it just exhausted me. I was done. So, I laid down for a couple of hours.
Then my husband said that my son wanted to show me the story he wrote for school and I just cried because I couldn’t handle it.
Which brings me back to the good because he then told me that it’s okay, you’re not feeling well. Just because it’s your brain and not a physical illness doesn’t make any difference.
That gave me enough strength to go and read my son’s (very impressive) story (after a few more minutes of calming down).
I think I’ll keep him around, no?
Hey does anybody follow postsecret? I think it helps.
I haven’t felt this low in a long time. Now that all of the really big stressful stuff is over, I’m supposed to feel better, right? Instead I feel about 10 times worse.
This sucks.
(hugs) Hang in there.
The last two days have been tough. I’m having trouble staying on task. Rape Month on the SDMB has been really starting to get to me. It started with just irritation, then anger, now I’m starting to have some symptoms of PTSD. The world just looks so ugly sometimes. I don’t think of my past nearly as much as I did before, but every once in a while it’s just like, ‘‘Oh, right. I lived that.’’ I had to pop an Atavan last night I was just getting wound up so tight. I just wanted to stay in my husband’s arms forever. I just want to crawl back in bed and get away from this horrible world for a while. I feel so guilty, like the world would just be better off if I left it alone.
I know that if I don’t manage some productivity today, I’m going to feel worse at the end of the day. So I am just going to have to hold on tight, take the work in small doses, and not give up.
I think all of us need a Tuesday morning {{{hug.}}}
I’m going down my list and making phone calls today. (Anybody else need to psych yourself up for that sometimes?) Trying to hold off anxiety and not take hard facts too personally. I won’t know what actions to take until I know toward what goal—move? stay and make repairs? save, or spend what little we have? I have to believe we won’t end up out on the street. Maybe there’s an option I don’t know about yet.
Yes. I don’t like making phone calls and some time I will put them off to the last moment. I’ve also done this with other things like paper work (and there is always paper work). A few times this has cause me problems which could have been easily avoided, which makes me feel even stupider than usual.
Today I start a job training program. I would prefer not to and just stay in my room, but I need the money as my disability isn’t enough to meet my needs. I know how that sounds, like I am a lazy fat ass living off of hard working tax payers, and I guess that is true to a point.
More than anything I wish I just didn’t exist.
I want to be able to say positive hopeful things to others dealing with mental illness, but it feels hollow as I don’t believe it any more.