I am in New Jersey

I’m in New Jersey and ruining my relationship. derp derp derp derp derp derp

I’ve been here almost 2 weeks and haven’t left.

Holy shit

So I have the worst agoraphobia since like right after I got out of the psych jail a year ago.

I’ve left the apartment a total of 4 times the last two weeks and three out of a four  times ended in the meltdown. The time one I was high on Ambien and managed to buy a vitamin water from the corner store.

fuck shit cunt tits is the state of my brain right now. stew in it

Birthdays

18th birthday: In school psychologist’s office seeking help for depression.

19th birthday: At an Italian dinner with like 3 people and my shitty teenage boyfriend. I wasn’t enjoying because I was severely depressed and most of my friends had left for real college, while I was at community college.

20th birthday: Mental breakdown in Vermont because I was sharing a bed in a dorm room and I suck at sleeping around people. I had to get a hotel room the next night.

21st birthday: At Wells. The only good birthday of my adult life. I managed to get 20 people in 5 different cars to an Applebee’s 30 minutes away, which I’m  still proud of. I threw up after the bar later, but that’s a 21st birthday tradition I think.

22nd birthday: In Community College, in a counselors office, withdrawing from school. Hysterically on floor crying as a “crisis center” line worker at St Clares asks me if I can come in today.

23rd birthday: They decided to renovate the apartment next to my boyfriend’s starting at 7AM. The drilling was driving me insane, and all I wanted to do was sleep. I spent 3 miserable hours traveling back to New Jersey from Brooklyn, where I curled up in bed and did nothing the rest of the day.

24th birthday: Super depressed. Curled up on bed at apartment and did nothing.

#10

According to my bathroom scale, I’m 98.6 pounds. I don’t really need a BMI scale to know that for 5’3″ that’s underweight.

I was 101 after my breakdown. I’m not sure how I lost so much weight since I was actually eating a fair amount of calories before it.
–

I filed a police report for my lost wallet which was fucking nerve wracking because I’ve had such bad experiences with cops. (Also, I technically could get fined for not getting a new ID within 30 days after moving.) I didn’t even know the state had cancelled my old drivers license until today, but I guess USPS or voter registration told them I moved.

It’s going to be a paperwork nightmare when I do plan on getting a new license here.

#9

When I crash, I crash. I’m just down. Emotionally. Physically.

I crashed this weekend, and I’m not sure how long it’s going to take to claw my way back up out this hell-bitch of a nadir.

#8

So my anxiety is so bad I made an appointment with a mental health clinic.

They cancelled because of the hurricane. I was willing to go out in the hurricane I feel so shitty. I want to cry.

I also lost my wallet today on the street; it fell out of my purse. I had just went to the ATM and withdrew $140.I also lost my $104 train card. There was a bunch of other shit in there too.

This is up there with worst weeks of my life. Probably third week.

#7

Let me tell you about the worst therapist I ever had. Her name was Vanessa. Vanessa was a giant fucking cunt. I am absolutely convinced, when asked her profession, she’s the type of person to answer smugly with a smile, “Oh, I help people.”

Spoiler alert: She was totally un-fucking-helpful.

I probably should have requested someone else right from the beginning. One of the first things she did was explain what they did at the the clinic. Which was blah blah blah wellness plan blah blah blah support blah blah by the way we sometimes call the cops on people in the middle of a session and force them to go to the hospital. (Later, a different person in that institution called the cops on me. Long story, for a later post.)

But my main problem with Vanessa was that she basically invented problems. I wasn’t very depressed when I first started seeing her, but I thought I should start seeing someone for preventative measures. She didn’t understand this concept and started fishing for issues.

“When shitty things happen in life, you feel like shit.” When did I say my life was “shit?” Never. It was the first session and I basically told her nothing about my life.

She then proceeded to assume I did nothing with my life: “Yeah, well, lying in bed all day is not going to help you.” I had a late sleep schedule but was actually fairly active at the time. She didn’t really know anything about my activity schedule. I tried to explain it to her, but she had this distinct look of a confused deer with lipstick and responded with more advice for problems I didn’t have.  Her demeanor the entire time was a constant combination of confused and annoyed.

When I got into a new relationship, Vanessa was the most unsupportive person ever of my newfound happiness.

“Yeah, well, okay, but what if this guy turns out not to be so great?”

Really? Really Vanessa? You can’t acknowledge my enjoyment of life for a fraction of our shitty appointment? (I’m still with the same person 2 years later. Things are great.)

To make herself seem educated and profession, she had a random assortment of books in her office. I saw”Snow” by Orhan Pamuk, which I recongized as by being by a Nobel winner, and asked her how it was. She pulled it and out and looked at it like she didn’t know she owned it. She seemed embarrassed and muttered she didn’t know… she seemed super pissy with me after that.

As I walked out the door and told her I was going to stop seeing her, she said, “It was very nice to meet to you,” with a look on her face and tone of voice that said, “Good, go home you Medicaid moocher.”

Vanessa probably got promoted after I left. She was visibly pregnant. I didn’t congratulate her. Fucking Bitch.