Kimvsdepression

  My therapist says I have Prolonged Grief Disorder. I stop blinking. She thinks I'm frozen. We play this game every week.  I stare at the screen without moving and she makes sure I'm still there. "I'm here. Prolonged Grief Disorder huh? Well, at least it has a name.  I'll add it to the list." She doesn't make a face. She knows I'm using humor to deflect. It's what I've done for years with things that make me uneasy. Friends couldn't quite put their finger on why I did it. Made myself the butt of jokes. Proudly declaring that I begged my husband to marry me and chased him relentlessly until he said yes. Among other humiliating things. Humor is the way I control things. Disarm people. It doesn't work with my therapist. She asks if I've played the piano in a while. "No. I'm giving my piano away." She asks if I've cooked anything. "Yes." She asks if I ate the food I cooked. "No." She asks about my ...

Tomorrow's my birthday and I've been avoiding calls and texts.  I usually avoid calls and texts but especially this week.  I don't want to tell people that I don't feel like moving. That I want to sit home and stare at the Netflix preview screen frozen.  I avoid people because I don't want advice or tricks to feel better.  If I could avoid taking multiple pills a day to battle intrusive thoughts by thinking positive thoughts, taking a walk or exercising, don't they think I would have done it by now?  WHY DOESN'T ANYONE GET IT?! I'm doing nothing for my birthday, I hope. Honestly, I didn't really think I'd make it to this birthday.  I even wrote myself a beautiful email that sent I got to open tonight, the night before my birthday.  I wrote it in October of last year to congratulate myself if I made it.  Here's what I wrote: Dear 39 Year Old Me, You made it. You fucking made it! I don't know how much better things are for you now but I...