I get up around 3am. I go to my "safe place"--a comfy armchair in front of the TV where my contamination fear obsessions aren't quite as bad.

I feel such depression in these morning hours. I feel so weary of struggling through.

Sometimes I just want to die. But I can't. It would destroy my mom.

She doesn't understand the way I vegatate in my safe chair. She doesn't understand my strange behavior. She tries though. She's even read books. And I am very, very grateful of that. It's just that she feels frustrated and unhappy that I am the way I am.

I feel like she is always critizing me for stuff I do or don't do around the house (we live together) mostly because I can't (cuz of OCD). But when she focuses on the good stuff I do, I only hear--see you are faking it, you can do so much better than you are.

I am so sick of whining and feeling sorry for myself. When I told my T that last session, he said it wasn't one of my better traits. Now I feel like I can't vent to him anymore for fear he will be thinking "oh god, here she goes whining again."

I just want to be held and comforted a lot of the time. But have no one to do that.

Sorry for the long post. Just really needed to vent and not feel so lonely with this.