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I haven't posted here in a while. I don't even know whether people actually read this or get anything out of it, but I thought I'd post again, because I enjoy it. I went a while without posting on here because I made some new friends that I wanted to tell that I had depression before they read about it in my blog. It was hard to do. I have a hard time telling people I have depression. Once they know, and I know they're cool about it, I don't have a problem talking about it, but telling them the first time is difficult.

When I came back to school this year, I felt like I was starting over. I ended a  friendship with one of my friends that was having a tremendous negative affect on me. He was just not good for me, and it was really hard to let go, because he was good to me, but I just had to do what was best for my health. Then I made several new friends, and I love meeting new people. So school started out pretty well.

It actually became bad because of my therapist. I saw her briefly at the end of my freshman year, all during my sophomore year, and I saw her once this year, for the last time. I really liked her. However, I had just a few issues with how therapy was going. I didn't want to spend so much time talking about my week and wanted more input from her because I felt like me talking the whole time wasn't getting me anywhere, and I didn't like when I was forced to talk about my dog dying, which I acknowledged was mostly my parents fault for calling her without my permission to tell her my dog had died. I was really scared to tell her though, because I don't like controversy and when people are doing something I don't like, I just usually try to ignore it. When I saw her the first time this year, I politely told her about my new friends and how school was going. Then I said I had a few issues, and told her the issues I just mentioned, and she freaked out. She got really mad at me, though she said she was just "really frustrated" with me for coming in to see her "with guns blazing". I was very upset, because I had done no such thing and I did not mean to upset her. She isn't my friend, which she's said herself many times, she's supposed to be my doctor. Then she went on to say that my concerns weren't related to her but were my fault because I only saw her twice a week, and I wasn't making any effort to help myself. I was utterly floored by these accusations and had nothing to say to them, and then our appointment time was over, and I walked out stuttering and crying. She knows I can't afford to go to therapy every week because I have to pay for seeing her myself and there's only so much I can work while also doing school and having to pay for my psychiatrist visits and medication. And I have done just about every single thing she asked or even suggested in a prompt manner and then discussed it with her. For her to say that I wasn't making any effort, just ripped me apart. I was so scared to talk to her about my issues with her, and then she reacted worse than I could have possibly ever imagined. I certainly won't be seeing her again, because she lost all my trust and respect for her. I don't really know that I want to see anyone else, because how can I trust anyone again? And what if she's right? What if everything is my fault because I wasn't trying enough? My therapist in high school said I didn't try very much, and I actually wasn't doing much then, because I was so catatonic I didn't really do much of anything. Also she wasn't a great therapist. But I didn't for one second think I wasn't trying enough or doing enough with my most recent therapist. I thought I was doing the absolute best I could. But if my best looks like nothing to her, maybe it is nothing. Even now, weeks later, this still brings tears to my eyes. It may not seem like that big a deal, because most of my friends haven't acted like it's a big deal, but I've only ever felt more betrayed once in my life, and that was a really bad situation, which my close friends may or may not know what I'm referencing to. I was doing pretty well before I saw my therapist this year, but I've been a wreck since then. I can't hold myself together. I keep losing it and falling apart. My depression is tormenting me. And all the friends I usually talk to about my depression are either too depressed themselves to talk to me, or just too busy for me. So suffice it to say, I'm not doing great right now. That's about all I have to say. I usually try to end things on a hopeful note, but it's just not there for me right now.