Hope.

I've been staring at this screen for a long time, just trying to figure out how I want to word this. I guess I'll try it chronologically.

Since moving home, all my emotional problems have been worse. The scary thing has been that part of my depression has been manifesting as anger. I can feel it all the time. I'm angry at my family, the Church, my friends, myself. Most of the time I can keep it under control and avoid violent outbursts, but I've snapped a couple times and I'm so ashamed of that.

Having my room back is nice, but I've started to become a hermit. I can count on my fingers the number of times I've left my house this week. I haven't been eating enough. I don't respond to most texts or phone calls. My job hunting has gone by the wayside. I can't sleep at night, and often just lay in bed and cry as quietly as I can until 3 or 4 in the morning.

On Tuesday, my mom was nagging me about how I still don't have a job, and I almost burst into tears. I finally told her about how I've been cripplingly depressed all year, and it's increased now that I'm home. I told her that I'm trying, but it's hard enough to get out of bed and shower. Her first suggestion was to see a doctor. I was somewhat surprised by this response, since in the past when I've slipped and let her see that I'm having problems she'd just tell me to choose to be happy or that it was hormones.

Yesterday, I talked with my dad about it too. I didn't expect how compassionate and empathetic he was. He said that my mom was going to make me an appointment as soon as possible to work on fixing this. He's noticed that I've been different, and he just wants me to be happy again.

Today, my dad took me to the doctor. I hadn't been able to sleep until just before 5, trying to come to grips with everything and preparing what to say to the doctor. Luckily I got to see our family doctor, my mom's cousin who knows all my medical history and most of my family's as well. Since I had spent some quality insomnia time reducing my experiences to ones that are medically relevant, it was easier than I expected to list off my symptoms and answer questions. It was harder to talk about all the suicidal ideation I've had in front of my dad, but I got through it without crying.

The doctor was concerned that my excessive tiredness and lack of energy might be due to something else, so I got some blood drawn for testing and then walked out the door with a bag full of my first antidepressant.

Now it's just a waiting game. These kinds of drugs usually don't show results for a couple weeks, so I'm going to see what happens. Even if this particular medication doesn't work and we have to change dosage or switch drugs, I feel like today was a step in the right direction. At the very least, now my depression is legit.

For the first time in a long while, I feel the stirrings of hope.