I quit...again

I quit.

I'm tired of quitting but I didn't see any other option.

Monday, I didn't fall down the stairs accidentally. I did fall down the stairs but it wasn't an accident. I felt nothing but sheer panic at the idea of going to work. It was a split second decision and I made the wrong one. In that moment, I figured I'd hurt myself enough to not have to work or to no longer be a bother to Jeff & my family. Win/win... Ugh...so irrational..

This morning I got up feeling mildly anxious, it quickly progressed though. I knew I couldn't fight it. I had to tell the truth about Monday. I started with Jeff.

I called my boss & was trying to figure out a way to tell him about my anxiety & have him understand that I'm not just being an asshole. I don't think he bought it so...

I can only get into a psychiatrist on the 18th of September.  That feels like it's forever away but it's a date at least. I'll talk to my NP on Wednesday about needing meds.

People try to be helpful - push through it, just do it, shake it off, think positive thoughts. I wish that was the solution. I try to think positive thoughts but the negative ones are so much louder.

I feel broken. I feel very alone. Jeff tries so hard but he doesn't understand. I feel so much guilt over the life he has because of me. He didn't ask to be married to someone with mental illness. It's very hard on him, too.  He's always in my corner though, even when he doesn't have the words to fix it for me.

So, back I go to the drawing board & long days home with the Dood. Another guilt trip, she loves daycare more than being home with me. Ugh....