Block or Clog?

I took the first step today. I made a phone call. Now I just have to make another phone call. And then actually go. Maybe, just maybe I can finally get all of this under control. Over the years, I've managed to bat away depression. I've managed to push it away. Yet, even when I thought it was gone, it was still lingering. It was looming over me. Waiting until that moment of weakness so it could come sweeping in on me. And it's done it once again. Sadly, this time I have medicine for it. I have the means to go and find solutions to beat it. Yet it's the one demon that lives inside me. I don't want it here. Yet, it's been a part of me for so long. It used to be just a visitor. Now, it's ingrained in me. I don't know if it can ever go anywhere. Some days, I'm scared of it leaving forever. It's the one constant. In a way, it's my release. It gives me a reason to just cry. To just lay in bed and sleep. To just not be anything for a day. I've always believed that sad emotions are easier to portray then happy ones. I already feel like I've lost a big part of me. I feel as though I've lost my way with words. I feel as though nothing flows anymore. Not even a trickle most days. What will I do when the day comes that the brick wall is completely erected. Where will I turn when I've lost my very last word. Will something replace it? Or will I be left with the shadows of once felt like my safety net. Yet, I can't live in the shadows. I can't rely on my excuses. It terrifies the hell out of me. But, maybe, just maybe, there will be something to fill the sadness that took over. Just maybe...maybe there is hope for happiness. Maybe it's not a block at all but maybe it's just a clog. Maybe there is so much waiting to come out of me that it got stuck and then it got lost, got tired of fighting for life. Maybe finally talking will bring my words back to me.

Carelessly Shutting Down

I don't know what to think anymore. The things I used to love just seem so mundane lately. The things I couldn't wait to do, I just push aside and do nothing instead. Hours on end I lay around, watching Hulu Plus. It's not just the rainy days that I feel down. It's nearly everyday. I've been on anti-depressants for a year now. Sure, at first they worked wonders. I felt like I never needed the anxiety pills then I felt like I didn't need the anti-depressants either. Sure, I've been horrible about taking them lately. But it's so much more than that. I feel as though the life has been drained out of me. I want to cry. But why? I want to just curl up and go to sleep, yet I'm not sleep-deprived today. I want to blame everything for my problems. My job at the restaurant(well there is no denying it is pure hell). The college I transferred to simply because I couldn't afford to stay where I already was(and I still can't make myself like the new school). The place I live(sure, the apartment is a great place but the other person can't stand being near me anymore over dumb issues.) The fact that I even have two jobs because I can't afford to live off one and yet I'm still struggling to make ends meet. The fact that the person that I love lives an hour away from me and it is so hard to find time to drive there, even if just for one night. All these things wear me down. But yet, I'm not so sure they are the only problem. I've had issues in the past. I've struggled with depression. Yet, I can't remember if I ever felt this low for such elongated periods of time. My doctor tells me I need to see a therapist. He's right. Yet, when and how am I going to fit one into my life. I'm terrified to even begin the search. I don't want to pick and choose through therapists, trying them on until I find just the right fit. I used to have so many ways to cope with stress. I used to write all the time. Now, I barely write. When I do write, it's just short stints that never go anywhere, mixed in with everything else going on and lost in the rubble. I used to avert my stress and sadness to other stuff. I used to busy myself. I used to read all the time. Now, I just sit here or lay on my bed and watch tv shows online. I don't do anything anymore. I don't even want to cook anymore. I'm spiraling downward and I know it yet I don't want to do anything about it. I just want to sit here and wallow in my sadness. Those papers the counseling center at school gave me for references to places in the city? Still sitting in that draw right beside me. I'm trying to make myself pull it out. Make myself actually begin the search. Yet, it's just one more thing I have to do. One more thing I can put off, inevitably too. I'm shutting down. I feel bad about it. I feel as though I'm shutting off the people who actually care but I can't stop myself. I've cut myself off. I can't care about the things I once cared about. I'm fighting to keep my passion for photography. It's still there and kicking. It's about the only thing still kicking me to do something other than work and sleep. Yet, it's only kicking. And I'm still not doing.