My depression and my friends

As time goes on, I’m getting worse and worse. My problems with anxiety are increasing. I’d actually never really thought of myself as having problems with anxiety before, but now I definitely do. I’m struggling so hard with the basic stuff. Cooking isn’t something I’ve ever really done, but now it’s much worse. I’m waiting for my parents to put clothes pegs on my nose (they probably won’t actually, I have a shower every time I go swimming, which is at least once a week, so that’s good). But it is undoubtedly true to say that I am pretty disgusting.

I really really thought I’d be better by now. It’s over a year since I graduated, and I thought I was getting my life on track, but, in actual fact, I’m becoming a different person. The things I used to be passionate about – I wanted to change the world, even recently, but now, I don’t seem to be able to care sometimes. I never ever want to go back to work, not ever.

I spoke to one of my friends today, and she didn’t really understand why my doctor has accepted that I’m ill enough to be off work, but hasn’t looked into providing any more support. But to be honest I expect it’ll be a little while before anything like that is deemed necessary. I’ve found a good therapist, which is good. We’ve had two sessions so far, and they’ve been good.

I’ve been talking to an old friend and we had a falling out yesterday or the day before, I don’t remember. He doesn’t really understand depression, and he had a go at me and said I need to pull myself together, basically. Stupid wanker.
Bit random post, I know.