Thursday, August 18, 2005

I'm no Joiner

So, I did it again.

I blew off the Ghetto Clinic's Depression Support Group today. Last night, I went to bed a little early fully intending to attend.

This morning, however, I slept through my alarm, jumped up, showered, got dressed, packed up my backpack, and still had enough time to get there on time (if I ignored one red light); but, as my hand touched the knob on the back door, I stopped.

I didn't want to go.

It felt like such a waste of time. I always get there on time (which is apparently considered early for the other sad-sacks) and only one or two people show up. If you don't speak first, you don't really speak at all since the first person takes up the bulk of the time allowed. And we go over the hour, and I got to get to work. And the people there are way off worse than me. My recently upped meds are kicking in nicely (Suicide: don't do it! Yay!). A touch of confidence is ever-so-slowly creeping into my yellow spine, bad events don't send me spiraling into a Hole as horribly as in the past, I have some energy, my mood is maintainable, I can nearly see myself opening up/ taking a chance at trusting people/someone, I faintly envision a Future ahead, and I don't get physically ill when leaving the apartment.

Can one ask for more? (well, yeah, but nevermind)

I get more "therapy" from forcing myself to walk to Dominick's (like I did instead this morning) for food, actually remembering to eat, smoking a cigarette while watching mocha-flavored women walk by my kitchen window, sipping a Jameson on the Rocks with a friend and oogling the bartender, hearing the kids who moved into Zilo's apartment play Hide 'n' Seek, listening to the rain with John Coltrane on the stereo, getting Lilly to purrrrr (this is a lot harder than you people can imagine!), or getting a stranger/co-worker to laugh at work. And a million other insignificant things normal people do and maybe take for granted.

I just hope my playing hookie doesn't get me booted from the program. That would be bad.

If anyone knows a cheap (individual) therapist in Chicago (Northside), let me know.

Okay, must get ready for work. Another Cursed Thursday with the Zoo Crew: bring on the Jagoffs and Moronic Mall Zombies. May they buy a lot tonight to fill their own Bottomless Voids.


M said...

Therapist? Now you know I can help there.

Mac said...

They gotta be cheap...or are you referring to my "Looking for Momentary Relief" post; in which case, they still gotta be cheap.