The danger of admitting you're depressed, is once your brain is aware you're not in denial any longer, it drags you right down to where it wants you to be.

I swing between seriously suicidal with urgent intent to apathetic. And back again. And back again. And again. And again. And I'm so tired, I think soon I will give up and give in. I doubt I will die. It will be listed as serious self-harm, or a failed attempt. Who cares. I might get a good long dreamless sleep out of it.
...

Alarm goes off this morning, first thing I noticed, it's pissing down with rain. Five hours later, nothing has changed in that regard. Then Leisa rang at about 8am, so I hauled ass out of bed. Ended up being a good thing, I got a free ride to Lambie Dr for my appointment because she was going there and passing our place on the way. So that was nice.

My appointment with Judy. Talking over various things. "So you're depressed." "Well, um, yeah I guess so."
...

Yeah, this morning I feel better. Actually, I usually feel a bit better in the mornings, which I guess would indicate that the quetiapine goes into action over night and reaches a peak serum level 10 - 16 hours after ingestion. I also think this means that perhaps I should ask to be taking something around 3 - 5pm to help me with nights, or something in the morning that would peak in the evening, helping me deal with the distressing thoughts I experience in the evenings.

I went to...

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Well, I think I've almost decided on what I'm doing when Sam moves out. I think I'll stay here on my own. That way, I don't have to worry about anybody else's financial situation, and my own financial situation won't affect anybody else. I think it's wise.

I texted Leisa last night. I'm not entirely sure what the motivation was. It felt really weird to be talking to somebody outside of their working hours, and it was a massive leap outside of my comfort zone. I think I prefer to stay...

Well, I went to the gym both yesterday and today. Legs day, arms day, if I go tomorrow, it will be abs day. But, tomorrow Leisa invited me to the CLS game thingummy up at the Gardens and I said I'd go (could be fun), my flatmate gets home from respite tomorrow (yay for a short stay), and I want to give blood tomorrow afternoon which involves magicking myself to middlemore hospital before 2:00pm.

I'm a little worried about my state of mind. I was just looking at the objects to the...

Well, technically today was Labour Day, but as I have no work to be absent from, it was just another Monday. Except Dad and Lyn invited us to catch the train into town with them, so we did that, and had lunch at Britomart. It was a good way to kill most of the day, far better than the lengths we had to resort to in the rain yesterday.

I washed my sheets - finally - I haven't changed my sheets for a couple of months, but because we only recently got our washing machine functioning...

I got home yesterday afternoon around 3pm. I'm back on my meds. I slept really well, only woke up twice, and only one nightmare. An improvement on the rest of the week, to be sure.

There's one thing that's bothering me though. My flatmate has been told that in a month, she's being put into supported accomodation. That means that I have to decide whether I want to stay here on my own (and pay more rent, although WINZ will help with that), or get a new flatmate and remain at my current...

I'm going to respite on Kolmar Road this afternoon. I've never been there before. I don't know what to expect. Is this too little too late? Am I doing the right thing? Will I be able to behave? Will I end up in hospital again? Will it help? Will I feel better? It's a massive pile of I don't know.

Phones are freaking me out. I was good and attended my supervision appointment though. Caleb was nice to me. I like people who are nice to me. Sometimes it makes things a lot harder but I'd...

I went to see my keyworker, which is probably the smartest decision I've made in days.

I still feel awful and horrible but now it's just the depression doing its . . . thang.

Jens said he saw my whiteboard. He said it was good. I don't know what he meant by "good". Maybe it explained well. Maybe it made sense. I don't know. But I suppose it's positive if a doctor sees your messy-thoughts whiteboard and describes it as "good".

Because...