- Apr 5, 2015
- Valley of dry bones
I am so depressed. My last appointment with my psychiatrist was before Christmas, and he didn't want to make any changes to my medications because he didn't think my depression was that bad. Why can I never seem to communicate to him how bad it is? Now it is even worse, in spite of going to the gym 3 days a week. My mood just continues to decline, and I just don't care anymore. I don't care that my apartment is a pig sty. I don't care if I get evicted. I hate my job and I don't trust my boss. My job is supposed to be full time, but we have low numbers of children, so I don't know if I will be working on Monday or which location I will be at. If I weren't feeling so damn depressed I would be looking for another job ASAP, but I don't feel like I even have the confidence to succeed in a job interview right now. I hate how fat I have become since starting seroquel. I just hate my life and I want it to end. My only hope is that my psychiatrist will get it when I see him Thursday morning, and decide on a diferent course of treatment for this cursed depression.