I've left my apartment maybe 14 times since July 1st. This is counting trips to the pdoc/therapist. I know I should get my butt out of the house, and it will probably make me feel less depressed, but I just can't seem to muster the energy.
Later today, I'm supposed to see my friend. He lives only two apartments below me, and I still don't want to go. It's like my apartment has become this strange holding place that is both quelling my anxieties/depression, yet holding me back. When I go to leave, I have this really sick feeling in the pit of my stomach, telling me I should stay home.
I've been trying to coerce a friend to have weekly meetings, but she's working and it's pretty much impossible for her, yet she is the only person I think I would be motivated enough to go an see. I should do something like make dates to go out that I can't get out of, with people I really like hanging out with. I want to, but I can't actually bring myself to contact anyone but the one friend who is unavailable.
I'm becoming a hermit.

At least in my home-bodyness, I am quite productive.

Has anyone else gone through this, and if so, how did you get yourself out of the house?