"It may not get better, but it certainly is going to get worse."
Entry 1 5:02 p.m. "It may not get better , but it certainly is going to get worse." --Dr. F, my therapist. Friday morning with Buddy, coffee and the maple tree view. Whoo. More productive at work than I have been in a while, and yet, I feel like I am carrying an an anchor on my back. It is tough. Doc is afraid I have succumbed to depression, and has urged me to seek help. Thanks, Doc. While insightful and lovely to talk to, I get about as much therapeutic help from her as I do watching Dr. Phil. Sigh. I have moved to feeling listless. Unmotivated. Last night's word salad journal entry aside, I speak about as much as a chair when I get here. I hate it. Dr. F. did rightly point out that while things may or may not get better over time, in the short run they are certainly going to get much worse. True. We did discuss, besides my gloom factory mind, that it is hard to know whether knowing or not ...