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I got to the point this morning where I’d just had it.  I couldn’t talk to him, I couldn’t really physically talk to anyone at work, and I was exhausted.  Beyond exhausted.  So I called the doc’s office and tried to get a therapy appointment.  No dice.  Did get an appointment with shrinky-poo which is almost as good.  Maybe better.  She says my seasonal affective shit has kicked in again and that I’m having some winter depression on top of everything else.  Gee, ain’t that lovely.  So she told me it’s time to turn the sun lamps back on and she wrote me an Rx for Lamictal to try to help with the depression.  Here’s hoping.

I sent Josh a text earlier asking him what I need to say to him to get him to leave me.  No reply.  No replies of any kind and that’s sort of odd.  He should be off work and on his way home by now which means he’s perfectly able to send a text.  So why isn’t he?  Interesting.

I really am tired of all this.  Shrinky-poo says it’s time for him to go, but that she doesn’t expect him to go quietly.  Why should he?  He’s got a great thing going with me, of course he’s going to want to fight to hold onto it.  I’m tired of being held onto though.  I’m DONE.

I know this is not a good thing to be telling you, but I’m going to have to have a smoke.  This is just too fucking much.  I’m going to try my hardest not to make this into a habit again, but if I don’t have something to help me get through this night, I’m very literally going to go crazy.  Please don’t think too harshly of me.

Here’s the totally fucked up part – I had to CALL Josh to ask him to get me a pack on his way home.  He is fastidious about telling me that he loves me when he gets off the phone.  Not today.

Sweet ceiling cat, what am I in for now?