Thanks, Mari.

Especially thanks for understanding about the screaming. I feel so awkward, and ashamed, and then I do that, and it is really shameful behavior, really shameful. And of course I feel more ashamed, and guilty. I thought a lot about how to change it. I am working on some ideas. I will try to channel people -- people who can respond better to those situations. But so far, impulse has gotten the better of me.

As to your worry. I am sorry. Maybe this will reassure you: I am not in danger of suicide. Not wanting to be, wishing I weren't, etc., that is different, and that is the case at times (not always). But I am not thinking about it or setting about making it so.

I already have an appointment in January. 2nd week, when my buses pick up. I do not feel I need to go anywhere before then, nor could I get an appointment any sooner. It's actually better to go a little longer. The horribleness really came on fast, and the severe part has been less than 2 weeks. I noted it near the beginning, in a dated document, so seeing it was keeping on, I was able to go back and stick that date in my migraine log (where Excel does the math). The appointment will be 3-4 weeks in. If he saw me sooner than that, the doctor would say to wait and see.

I'm not in an emergency situation, and even if I were, the ER is here perfectly hopeless for these things. They are hopeless unless you are having a heart attack or have a visibly broken leg, and even then it's like a box of Forrest Gump's chocolates.

Even though ER's in the US are more competent, I honestly do not feel I am ER material. The desperation might be what is scaring you. It is a feeling, a deep, cutting feeling, but it does not go anywhere and it does not cause me to do anything. I am helpless to it, but that, at least, does not stay. It happens in waves. If that quality stayed, I would have texted my therapist/pdoc by now.

I feel that I am stable, even if that stability is way, way below baseline right now. I do not know if it qualifies as "depression" (I kind of think so by quality) because of the sad events and difficult processing I am doing. In other words, how much of this is a "normal" reaction to heavy stimuli, and how much if any is pathological.

I'd think only bereavement could cause this degree of emotional ailing. But some of the news I had comes sort of close to that, in a way, and it came in a painful package to boot. (I will not go into those details here.)

Then there are other things, too. There was the shock of seeing my friends' successes. Their resumes, their positions, their lifestyles. Where I have not been comparing myself, suddenly, the comparisons were in my face. I was hearing people exchange offers and talk about jobs... I could barely follow what they were saying. It was frightening, and humiliating. I had to smile and make pretty. I made Candy Crush jokes and made myself even more ridiculous... if ya can't beat 'em, beat up on yourself. When I did talk about seeking work, some showed disdainful disinterest. Others seemed keen to help, but could not. They cannot reinvent my life.

But I MUST. I must do exactly that: reinvent my life. And it looks like I'll have to rebuild it from ground zero. I quake under that mountain of a proposition.

waves