Monday

May 21st

No, I haven't died. I'm a survivor, like those Destiny's Child hos.

There is nothing physically wrong with me, but I am mentally ill. I was admitted to the mental ward of a hospital last week for three days. I can't even begin to tell you what happened to me in that hospital-- I am not mentally strong enough to do that right now. I will say that I have panic disorder, and I have had a nervous breakdown. I am taking Paxil, Zyprexa, and Clonazepam. I am often tired, moody, irritable, anxious, gassy, and constipated. But I'm happy. I'm finally getting the help that I need. My pychiatrist (forgive my spelling, I'm sick, guys) is amazing. He's this huge, short, intimidating man who says "Hello [my name]" in this eerie, sinister voice. He scares me. Still, he's amazing because he got to the root of my problem-- my fear of losing control. I need control at all times. That is why I'm afraid of sex, afraid of being touched in certain places, afraid of doctors, afraid of flying, afraid of haunted houses, afraid of scary movies...the list is endless.

Believe me, I will come out of this stronger, but it will be a couple of months until I can actually work and have a normal life again.

I love all you guys who read this and care about me. Please e-mail me and I'll write you back when I can.