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.