I need a Therapist.

It’s been more than two years since I last posted any article on this blog. It has been a long two (plus) years. I have had high highs and I have had very low lows in the time. I forgot about this project of mine mostly because when I was at my highs I was busy enjoying life and did not have time to sit down and hammer away at a keyboard, who has time for that? there’s life to enjoy! And at the lows, who has the energy to hammer away at a keyboard? who has the energy to do anything other than to get up, shower and (begrudgingly) drag themselves to work where really you show up because there’s no other option because there’s that pesky little thing called rent, and a car note if you have one and the inconvenience that is a stomach which needs constant feeding and saving for a rainy day if you’re the kind of person that actually believes you’ll live to actually be caught in that rainy day… See, I’m kinda fifty-fifty on that whole saving for a rainy day hoopla. I strongly believe in the deepest, darkest part of my heart (for reasons I might share one day) that I am probably never going to survive beyond my forties. If I am lucky. I don’t tell my family this. I told one of my friends and she looked at me liked I had grown a combined horn and third eye on my forehead and since then I have not dared mention it to anyone else. Anyway, what I’m trying to say is I believe in enjoying what money I have worked for. I work hard. I do save my money. I just don’t also necessarily deny myself a certain pleasure all in the name of rabidly saving my money. I don’t see myself ever getting married. I don’t want children. So who is this that I am so earnestly saving this money for? This money that I have worked for right now?

Anyway, I digress. I’m a very chilled out person generally, quiet, mind-my-own-business type of person. Introverted, even. I can seem very standoffish or snobbish but that’s really because I feel extremely awkward around strangers and have a bit of social anxiety especially around groups of people I do not know. Unfortunately I also tend to not talk about my troubles to anyone. I have this thing where I dislike telling anyone, not friends, not family, of my pains or my struggles because I absolutely loathe that look of pity in a person’s eye. I loathe it. I feel like they’re looking at me and judging me for being a weak person. Generally I work through whatever issue I have at the time and mention it loosely or in a light manner at a later date. Like, oh yeah, this and this happened but meh, it’s over, it’s sorted, we’re good, moving on. If at all I mention it… Now before you mention it, yes, these are my friends, or family, they’re probably not judging me. They probably are thinking of a way to help me. I know that. Somewhere deep deep down. A shrink, if I ever gathered enough courage to go see one, might ask me why I think they think I am weak. Yes, I have issues. Hell, my issues have baby issues that’re already pregnant with grand-baby issues. You don’t have to tell me.  I know. I know. Sigh. *Bows head*

This is not good. (Duh.) It’s even more not good for someone who struggles with depression like I do. Excuse my extreme butchering of the language. I feel like I have slowly withdrawn from the world. I have regressed. I have lost friends. I have become a shadow of my former self. I have lost the ability to make social contact with people. My social inadequacies have become even more magnified. My sister worries about me I think. I notice of late she really tries to involve me in a lot of her plans but I decline almost as much as she asks. I hide in my bedroom a lot. I feel bad for her sometimes. She tries so hard. I realized just this past week that I’ve developed a lot of self-destructive behavior that I have to shed if I am to grow up, if I am to move forward from this place that I am stuck in, If I am to become something more than just a shell of my former beautiful self. (Ok, I’m lying. I think at my very best I could pass for cute. Maybe very cute. Beautiful is really overselling myself… XD ) And that is how I have come to the realization that I need a therapist.

But I am a stubborn bitch. And instead of getting a real flesh and blood therapist, I am reviving my Old Faithful. This was once my faithful therapist. Silent and always listened. Never talked back. And I could rant and rave all I wanted, or have a thoughtful word and always leave unburdened and at peace. I have even renamed the blog to Running on Empty. Because that’s how I feel nowadays. I have been running and running and running on empty, running from demons I cannot see, demons I fear might catch up with me one day soon and I need to slow down and catch a breath before it’s too late. So here’s to my first therapy session…and hopefully to many, many more to come.