I just took a few bites of a nectarine that was grey on the inside - yeah, grey in the British sense - and tasted strangely like a banana. Ew.
So I need to find a therapist. I'm not gonna not mention it - who cares? It's not like my name is on here and those of you who know my name don't judge me. But how to find one? I'm just randomly going through names on my insurance plan, figuring out who is closest to my apartment. This is a person I have to come to trust intimately, who is going to be very important in the coming months. Just pick a name? Geez. I went to RateMDs.com but they only had like 3 local psychiatrists on there with all bad ratings.
Why is there such a stigma concerning mental health anyway? Imagine how horrified you would be if I let it slip that I've been on antidepressants for over a year. (Oops.)
I'm not crazy. Sometimes I feel crazy compared to people who don't have crying fits several times a week, but really, I'm quite sane. I wouldn't be able to function otherwise. It's just this heavy sadness ... it doesn't go away. It waxes, it wanes, it lessens and increases, but it is always there.
I don't know why I wrote all this on my blog and not in my private journal. Maybe it's confession time ... an expose on your favorite blogger. Who's next?
I think I wrote it because I don't care anymore. I don't care what people think of me. I used to obsess over it but really, there are so many other things to worry about. I'm a writer, there's a need to unburden my soul for an audience and I can't seem to get that memoir down on paper, for some reason. So here it is in installments.
P.S. Sorry about the post title; I couldn't resist.