Another week at the hospital is over. I've been so drained lately that I'm falling asleep fully clothed at 8:30 or 9.

Realized something big in therapy though. The root of a lot of my depression is this crazy perfectionism I learned from my grandmother. I've been living with the core belief that it's better never to try something at all, than to try and fail ('fail' being anything less than absolute perfection.) Knowing I can't live up to my own impossible standard, I give up before I ever start.

It's leached every bit of joy out of my life for as long as I can remember.