Aw, I know how you feel. My meds are kicking in, and having work I enjoy keeps my mind positively occupied for many hours everyday. But first thing when I wake up in the morning, it's the same old thing -- why am I alive? I am failure. Life's not worth living. Blah, blah.

I mean -- really blah, blah. Not yadda, yadda or anything perky. Blah, blah.

It's the disease. I've starting thinking of it as a demon. Like "possession" in the Bible. As some foreign, evil body who takes over my mind. Someone it helps to visualize the disease as separate and apart from the "real me." Maybe that I am able to do this a bit for the time being is another sign of getting a little better.

And I say that holding my breath and minimizing the improvement, because I am scared silly that I'll be back down in those pits again, where were considering whether I should check into a psych hospital just a few weeks ago!

(((((((((((esthersvirtue)))))))))))