Sadly, that stay was very disappointing (terrible food, horrible head doctor, condescending resident with sad, caterpillary I-want-to-look-like-I'm-in-charge mustache, annoying hypocritical liberal social worker, and filled with crazy people), and not at all therapeutic.
During the intervening time I've done a lot of therapy with a great psychologist and tried a couple of medications (unsuccessfully). And now I find myself very nearly at the same place I was two years ago: in the midst of a depression which seems to be growing exponentially, feeling quite isolated and hopeless, wondering what to do next.
It's not as if I haven't made lots of progress toward 'recovery', it's just that I am no longer sure what that means or who I am. And for those of you who have not experienced this existential sort of vacuum, it's no. fun. at. all.
A friend has offered her extra room 1500 miles from here as respite should I choose to take it. And I can tell you I'd love to take it, but I've got more than an inkling that my ex would take my absence and use it to leverage against me, moving the 8 year old back to his old school district as soon as I turned my back. So, along with my own school work to consider, I've obviously got a big reason to not take that trip at the moment.
My tack at the moment is to accept that I feel absolutely awful and try my best to pretend otherwise. That tack on a grand scale isn't very good for a person (I dressed for and nearly drove to work the day I checked myself into the hospital). It's maddening to pretend, and pretending isn't healthy. But being really like this (depressed, dissatisfied, humourless, bitter) is alienating for the rest of the world. So for now, while I work out my next steps, I'm going to do it wearing a layer of
I really don't want to go back to the bin.