Learning To Live

I got home tonight and my brother is gone. I know we both left around the same time this morning, but when I got home way past midnight I sort of forgot he wouldn't be here. And I'm scared. This blog has turned into me facing my fears lately, or maybe even me not facing them, but complaining about them instead. I have spent the last week with my brother. Almost every minute was spent with him. I would consider moving wherever my brother ends up because he is that important to me - and we have a much better relationship when we are together in person. When Darin and I are apart and I try and call him he seems annoyed. We don't really email or talk online like I would like to - I want to know everything like I know everything when we're together. This past week has been so much fun and I've gotten so much done, it's really how I want my life to be. Basically, I want to be like Will and Grace. My brother is very good at compartmentalizing things and not get...

I don't know what to do with my blog. I've been thinking about the complaints I've gotten for the depressing nature of my blog... and yeah, I re-read the whole thing, and I was obviously depressed the entire time I was writing, until it got better. I can tell the week where my meds started to work - I changed and people continued to give me shit. The one person in particular who was giving me shit is younger than me. She has CF and is going to school and lives with her parents. I don't know her except through a few online conversations and postings in a group's discussion board. I don't know where she thought it would be a good idea to anonymously bash me and everything I said for more than a month, but that's her business. There are so many things I could say - I could defend my PTSD and my depression because they are real and exist. She "doesn't believe in most psych-illnesses" (yeah, she texted that to ME, the daughter of a PSYCHIATRIST...

I know I'm depressed. It's figuring out how depressed I am and how much my CF plays into this and if I can pull out of this with therapy or if I have to have another psych med to help me. My insides hurt a kind of hurt that is so hard to describe. I know I am in there somewhere fighting to get out, but this sadness is blocking the real me. I am a picker. Two years ago I was able to get it under control and it is only an issue occasionally any more, but in high school and the start of college it was terrible. It went along with my PTSD and OCD and control issues, and I've been having more problems with it lately. I am having problems dealing with my lack of energy and the fact that I am bleeding so often - like everyday, despite being on the pill that is supposed to make my period go away completely. And I just don't have the energy or the drive to pick up the phone and call the gyno to get an appointment to try and figure out what's wrong because I feel like ...