It's been about a month now since my psychiatrist changed my meds. This time, we started with 100 mg of Wellbutrin once per day. Two weeks ago, we changed it to 100 mg twice a day.

I'm still blah.

I'm still crying every day.

I'm still depressed.

I'm in even more trouble at work and, like I've shared recently, now on probation and will be fired within a few weeks because no matter how hard I've tried, I still can't tackle this job.

I haven't had any hypomania since about August.

That's what was getting me into trouble at work before. The hypomania. I couldn't concentrate, lost all focus, forgot things that I had been taught, had to be retrained and would forget it again.

Either way -- depressed of hypomanic -- I suck at this job.

Just when I think I'm going to quit beating myself up over the fact that I'm failing at this job and about to get fired from the highest-paying job I've ever had with the best benefits I've ever had, I start beating myself up again.

I took a sleeping pill at 8:00 p.m. tonight (an hour ago) because I've had trouble sleeping because of the stress. I tell myself I'm not going to worry about the job, I'll just tough out the last days there, and if I don't find something in the meantime I will file for unemployment.

Then I lie down and all I can think about is, "How am I going to pay my bills? How embarrassing is it going to be when I have to be escorted out of the building with a box of my stuff? What am I going to tell my family? They're going to think I'm a loser AGAIN."

I'm so freakin' lonely.

Do you ever feel like posting how you REALLY feel on Facebook? Something like:

If anyone is awake, please chat with me online or call me. I'm so freakin' lonely and just need to hear someone's voice.

I hate it when several days go by and I realize I have not been touched by (or touched) the skin of another human being. It's almost like being in a bubble of isolation.

My 20-year-old son can give me a hug and STILL I've had no human contact.

Earlier today, I was sitting at work, getting more and more stressed out over the situation and the project that I'm struggling through.

My heart was feeling really heavy and I had pain between my shoulder blades.

For a few minutes, I was thinking, "Is this the beginnings of a heart attack? Is this how it's going to go down? My mom was right. I should have exercised and lost weight. If I died right now, would it really be that bad? Would anyone even notice? I don't even feel the burning desire I used to have for the things I wanted to do in my life. I'll be remembered by the mess I had gotten myself into right before I died. They'll say, 'She was destitute, in major debt, and it's probably a good thing she kicked the bucket at 46. She never was going to make good on any of those hopes and dreams anyway.'"

I'm just *****y tonight.

Sorry.

Maybe this Ambien will kick in soon and I can get some sleep.