. . . that when I get to the point that I need help or intervention I could reach out to someone. It just seems when it gets to the point where I'm past the point of logic it's too late to call. I'm embarrassed, I worry too much about what the people around me think. I'm constantly trying to understand am I depressed or boderline or narcassitic (Sp) or intermittent explosive yaddie, yaddie. . . How do I effectively tell a Dr what my problem is when I just feel like I'm going to pop out of my skin or burst into flames if I don't get some relief.

It's a mountain of worry that is pressing down. I want soo much to be a wonderful mother, daughter, friend, but I continually lash out with angry words and I hate myself for it. . .I wish I could make myself shut-up. . then despiration winds up soooo tightly my head is slammed into the nearest wall before I realize what I'm doing; it's not normal and prozac doesn't cut it!

*exhale*