21 September 2013

Journal 4


September 21, 2013. Depression 7. Anxiety 9.

Bird died.

Dad's being a dick.

I really just want to be left alone. Took 2 klonopin so far today. Went grocery shopping. Ugh.

Really wondering how the hell I'm supposed to take care of myself without insurance? It's like they're trying to sentence me, punish me with my own disease. If I don' have my meds, life is 20x worse. Lots of mixed episodes and extreme ends of the spectrum. I could cycle several times a day.

I had to quit Chantix. Bad for me apparently. Smoking a pack or more. 

I did what a friend told me to, and smiled at a complete stranger, through the anxiety. She smiled back, but if she knew me and the battle I fight, would she still smile, or would she clutch her purse? Would she stare in fear and disgust? Would she be accepting of me, her neighbor, "The least of them."

It's like the more I try to be me, the less understanding and tolerant people are. The only time I feel at home is at death metal concerts. I'm a true metalhead. I fit in there.

I could use a hug from Dave.

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