Few Major Updates

Went to my therapist (you know, for this depression shit) this past Wednesday.
Since it seems like I'm reverting back into my mopey ways, he suggested I start doing anti-depressants again.
Which requires I find a psychiatrist under our insurance.

But then my mom, in all her motherly glory, instead decided that it's not my depression, but my declining lung health.
I forgot to mention, I think, I have Cystic Fibrosis.
So, she thinks that my symptoms of depression are instead just me getting sick from not doing my meds and breathing properly.
Fine, that explains the exhaustion, difficulty breathing, etc.
But what about the unwillingness to leave my bed merely because I have nothing to look forward to for the day?
Or the constant feeling of wanting to cut myself because of the pressure build up internally?
Or the anxiety?
Or the insomnia?
Or the overall feeling shitty and worthless?
Pretty sure improved lung function won't help that.
But he agrees with her, because he doesn't understand CF.

So, my homework is to schedule an appointment with my CF clinic, which I've been deliberately avoiding for the last six months.
Why?
Because I know they won't be happy with me and admit me for two weeks in the hospital.
What's so bad about that?
Worsened depression because of the smack in my face with how inevitable my death is to this disease.
Worsened anxiety because my mom will constantly remind me that it's my fault I'm in there in the first place, and exactly how many thousands of dollars it is costing her to keep me in there.
Like I asked for this shit.


I'm going to move onto a different topic before I start crying again.

I'm going to be moving near the end of the month.
Away from the Roswell area to the Lithonia area.
Bad news because most of my friends are here.
Good news because I might be living with Master (with my mom, but hey, it's an improvement).
Him and I will be paying rent for living in the finished basement of her house.
But it's more like it's own apartment with its own driveway, kitchen, and even washer/dryer system thingie.
So, it's a good thing and a bad thing, if he moves in with me.
If not.... At least I'm close to him?
I have to find a bright side, otherwise the knife comes out and we have a little bandaid party.
(This isn't a threat to you, Kitty, if you're reading it. It's just a straw that would break the camels back: a little thing on top of a load that's already too heavy.)

And how are you folks today??