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Its the truth....

I am feeling very lonely, scared, unsure of my future and not too sure there will be a future. Whenever I try to "see" past the next few months its all black....I have never felt like that before. No matter how depressed I've been I have had the ability to see hope and a plan for the coming years. I want to get out of my house and my head and go to work but I don't know how to leave the house. I have applied for job after job on line but can't find a way to walk into a place and do the same thing I do on line...Filling out an application...How hard can it be? Then even the possibility of one of those jobs calling me in for a meeting...OMG, it makes my stomach hurt..Just thinking about an interview and then, if I get a job, the training, makes my heart start banging in my chest and my skin start to sweat. I can't breathe... I can't breathe.... I can't figure out anymore how to live. It doesn't even make me sad anymore. It just makes me feel aw...
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~I Just Want To Be Loved~

~I think we all have heard that research has proved that babies feel loved more when a parent gently rubs their back,stomach or massages their arms and legs.To a baby who is put into a NICU (unit for babies born prematurely with breathing and/or other problems), interaction with their parent(s) is vital to their self-esteem, feelings of security and all future intimate relationships. A baby that is not loved, touched,hugged and kissed is most likely to suffer problems interacting through their lives.That is why doctors and nurses especially encourage parents to hug, snuggle or gently rub their babies skin.The human touch for a baby is as important as food; it's nourishment to a growing soul to be touched and to be loved. So why would it be any different to that soul as we become even older? Touch is communication without words. If someone wants to show a friend that they care often the first thing most people want to do is hug them. When people on line want to reach out to another ...
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Talking to the Psychologist

Here I am on a Tuesday afternoon sitting across from a doctor, a psychologist, on the second floor of a building in Pittsfield. Outside in the hallway,also called the waiting room, is my husband and two kids. I can hear them chattering quietly. The woman is more into the questions she is reading to me off a state-mandated questionaire then she is in what is truly going on in my life. For the next 50 minutes,an hour to psychologists,I have to prove that I am sick enough for the state to help me.I have a whole 50 mintues to attempt to cram into the air,and her onto her clipboard,everything in my life that has played a part in making me depressed,an agoraphobic, anxiety-ridden, and all plus the issues with my degeneritive disc disease in my back, messed up vertabrae, fibromyalsia,migraine headaches, carpal tunnel in both hands,knee issues and on and on. First the doctor turns the fan on. Is it okay she asks. Its an old building with dark stained door frames and the usual boring stained ...
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