I've been hospitalized for depression twice since my s.o. passed away almost 3 months ago. This second time, I was there for exactly one week. I got discharged 5 days ago. I want to recover more and feel better, but I am truly afraid that I am heading for more trouble. I've been wracking my brain about what to do.

I was not rushed out of the psych hospital. Staff there were very supportive toward me, as were my fellow patients. I agreed that staying longer would probably not serve any good purpose. On the morning of my last day there, a senior counselor sat with me. It was a long talk. I broke down sobbing a few times. I was still feeling severe grief at times. He told me I could stay longer, or return again in the future, if I felt in crisis again.

The counselor agreed I was still in crisis that very morning. However, I felt I could further recover best at home. Since leaving, I haven't had an episode of severe grief. I'm surrprised. I gotten a bit weepy now and again, but it has been what I would call normal grieving. I don't sob hysterically, like I was doing just before I went back into the hospital.

I'm still not taking care of myself as I need to do. I've been losing weight since June 1rst. Some days I've just eaten bowls of Cherrios. My apartment is very cluttered and disorganized. I don't cook because there is no room in the kitchen to work, due to clutter. I am anemic. Also, I've developed sores on the corners of my mouth that I think reflect nutritional deficiencies and inadequate oral hygiene. This is depression.

Instead of feeling horrible grief, I have been pretty calm and content to watch TV and read online. But I'm doing too much of that. I neglect just about everything, as though it all doesn't matter. I go days without opening my mail box. When I finally do, I bring in the mail and I don't even open it. I risk missing something really important. As I said before, I'm not eating properly. I don't want to ruin my health like I'm doing.

I wrote and mailed a letter today to my primary care provider, who is a physician's assistant. I told her about my going again to the hospital. I told her about my ongoing lack of motivation to take better care of myself.

I know it's up to me to take care of my responsibilities. Every evening I say that I'll do better the next day . . . and then I don't. I'm scared. I fear not having the will to pull myself out of the rut I'm in.

Hours go by that I just kind of vegetate. I'm getting physically weaker. I can't seem to grapple with tidying up my apartment. I always had mild hoarding tendencies, but they've gotten out of control. I get great anxiety thinking about what to do with all the stuff around me (a lot from my s.o.'s apartment that I had to empty out.

I'm scared. I want to ask for help. I don't know what to ask for. I live okay on a small income. I did hire cleaners to do some heavy cleaning that was needed. I can't afford to hire much more help. Plus, I can't really delegate the sorting that remains to be done.

After my first hospitalization, I tackled getting stuff dealt with and made good progress. Then I went backwards and started just adding to the mess. I'm tripping over bags of stuff here and there.

A neighbor of mine stopped by, looked around and said, "No wonder you're depressed. You need help." I get so anxious about how to proceed.

I've had compulsive tendencies all my life, but now it's out of control. I pick up some item and spend forever trying to decide what to do with it.

I don't expect some pill to fix this. I don't expect some counselor to explain the secrets of getting organized. I know what I need to do. I just don't manage to make myself do it. It's truly frightening.