My husband made an appointment for me to see a doctor. Just a regular one, but we are hoping that they will give me a referral to see a therapist. Apparently, there are some weird rules about making appointments with therapists on base, but we’re figuring our way around it.

I’ve been a lot more Empty lately. Empty is how I feel when my depression gets really bad. It’s not an on/off switch with me being Empty. No, it’s when I’ve put off being Empty for too long and it hits me all at once. I become absolutely catatonic when I get so bad. See, I’m a grown woman. I shouldn’t have to have help getting undressed. But nope! I’m the 22-year-old who is unable to take off her own shoes and pants. I owe Adam so much. He’s by far the greatest thing to ever happen to me. Whenever I was Empty at home I would be in the same clothes for a week straight. Only getting up to use the toilet. It’s awful.

I’m not Empty right now- I can walk, talk, eat, drink (the three glasses of wine tonight have proven that to be true), and think in full thoughts instead of the broken segments telling me how to function like a regular human. Have you ever had to remind yourself how to walk? I have. It’s not a pleasant experience. I, however, have been home for nearly four hours and have yet to take off my boots or jeans- both of which are literally rubbing me the wrong way.

But I’ll be going to the doctor on Tuesday, the same day that this post will go live. So that’s good. Adam and I will go there, I’ll tell them that my anxiety and depression are getting the better of me, and hopefully, I can get some Happy Pills into my system.

I was supposed to be happy while being here in England. I was supposed to be a productive member of society. But I’m friendless, jobless, and I don’t really have a life. Maybe with the Happy Pills, I will be able to branch out a little more and be more myself. Because right now, I’m more than three wine glasses deep into my depression.

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