It's one in the morning and I should be trying to sleep. I got off work an hour ago, and I have to wake up at 7:30 in the morning for class. But I NEED to write. Right now. It's been so long.
I quit the vet tech program. I feel like it was a waste of my time and money. But I'm still in school. Considering nursing now. I'd be a neonatal nurse if I were to pursue that career field.
Still working at the animal hospital, and still loving it. Learning something new every day. Also met a guy at work. Austin. We started dating in October, and now we're officially together. We're not telling our co-workers. They'd be all immature and stuff, and try to pry into our business. Which he doesn't want to deal with, and I'm fine with that. He's wonderful though. Hopefully different than the douchebags I've been involved with in the past. I'm finally letting someone get close to me, and that's incredibly hard for me. But he's worth it, so I'm trying my best. I just hope he really is different, and I don't end up getting hurt.
Although I'm super happy about Austin and I, I'm just....sad. I hate depression. I hate being depressed. I hate that I can't go a single day without having at least one of those bad thoughts that seem to consume my mind. I'm on medication. Two different anti-depressants, and then an anxiety med that I only take as needed. I've been having to take that one more often lately.
Even on medication, it doesn't stop. It was working so well, and now...now I'm not sure. Happy one minute, depressed the next. And being depressed is different than being sad. It's worse. I hate it. I hate the thought of having to live like this forever. Of never being able to go a day without feeling like this. And that just depresses me even further. And other than medication, there's nothing I can do about it. That's the worst part. I have breakdowns out of nowhere. For no reason. Tonight on my drive home after work, I started having bad thoughts and I started crying. I don't even know why. The smallest things will set me off.
I should talk to someone. Go to counseling again. I know I need to. There's just so much though. And it's so hard to explain. And talking isn't going to be able to fix me. I wish it were that simple. Maybe I'll take that step though. Because it's not like I can just talk to family or friends about this. They don't understand. My parents would insist on getting me help or whatever. And friends don't want to hear about super serious stuff like that.
So I write. That's all I can do right now. Write, and sleep.