the danish outpost
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feeling kinda how a girl feels

well. hm.

there's no way to sugar coat this, so here goes: i hit the wall today, mentally. really and truly, things have never looked so bleak. it's a little better now, but i still feel pretty fragile.

*sigh* so how did it come to this? i don't know. all i can tell you is how the day went.

my best friend came over and as promised did my dishes for me. there were about 4 weeks worth of dishes and slime and trash in there. i had strong armed her a little bit into helping out by pointing out that i've done the same for her on a few occasions. i'm so grateful she agreed to help. and once she got going, she kept going. she dragged out all sorts of mops and the Swiffer and the broom and mopped my kitchen floor within an inch of its life, and dumped out the cat box.

while she cleaned the kitchen, i helped by drying the dishes and putting them away. when she started mopping, i sat out of the way in a corner and read Shrek to her to keep her company. and then i went over to the phone and called my therapist. there wasn't much conscious thought that went into it. i just did it. i told the desk person that yes, it was an emergency, and i needed to see her as soon as possible. she called back a short while later and said that an appointment had opened up tonight, at 7:30, and did i want that? oh, yes. yes, yes, yes.

since there was time before the appointment, we made a trip over to Petco. why she was willing to be seen in public with me in all my unshowered, sweatshirted and ball capped glory, i do not know. i shuffled thru the store, knowing what i was looking for and unable to find anything or decide on what to get, and nearly getting some doggie cookies because they smelled good enough to eat. i ended up settling on a new litter pan and a scrumfy bed for the white cat. as we were wandering around, i thought 'pets are supposed to help calm you down. let's visit the birds.' oh... that was a disaster. the parrots started screeching, and while one lovebird may coo quietly, 25 lovebirds make quite a bit more noise. playing with the ferrets was more successful. squiggly little fur covered slinky crawled around in my arms and tried to nibble on my earrings. i had forgotten how much they like shiny things.

after that, my best friend dropped me at home, and i took a nap. just going over to the store for a few minutes had exhausted me. i rested up, and then headed over to my therapist's. i almost cried on the way over; my clutch leg kept shaking, and i was afraid i wouldn't be able to drive.

this is how bad it's gotten: i haven't showered in three days - and i don't care. i don't care. i don't feel gross or dirty; i don't feel much of anything except terrified. except: except i do care. i know that there is something wrong with me. i know that being unwashed and nonfunctional is bad. and sitting on my couch, watching stupid shows, i can pretend i don't care. i can hide away, not answer the phone, not check email, not respond to the doorbell. but i do care. i know that this isn't the person i want to be. i know it's the person i am right now. and i don't know how to fix it. i feel very broken.

my therapist has given me a change in meds, which may help. and i felt calmer afterwards. and she wants me to call and check in with her every few days. still, it scares me that i've gone this far downhill. but it did feel good to walk into pine scented goodness in my kitchen. i called my best friend to thank her, again, for all her help and support, and for giving me a warm inviting place to walk into.

yesterday :: tomorrow

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i think i've been tricked
steely grey days
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the appeal of the broken boy

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