Many Years of Poems

I just spent three days in the hospital again; suicidal thoughts got the better of me. The psychiatrist there raised my dosage of Celexa up to 60 mg (from 40 mg) and that seems to be helping. I don't feel quite so depressed any more and I can control the suicidal thoughts.

I hate being in the hospital. It's just not home. I took my teddy bear with me, but it wasn't the same as hugging my teddy bear in my bed with my boyfriend snuggled up to me.

I think I'm going to call the teddy bear Butter because of his color; he's a pale blond about the color of butter.

My online friends missed me, which was nice to find out. I don't think many of my RL friends even knew I was in the hospital.

I can't wait for bedtime tonight when I can sleep in my bed with Butter and my honey. :D

I'm still hobbling around because of my spectacular lack of gracefulness last week. (Reader's Digest condensed version, I stepped in a large pothole that I thought I had cleared and broke my right foot and sprained my left.)

Cliff's checking account is overdrawn and we're not too sure how that happened. The REALLY bad part of this is that we haven't bought groceries yet. I'm not sure what to buy because I can't buy what I normally buy because I can't be on my feet cooking, which is why I hadn't gone grocery shopping yet.

I'm all stressed out over the money, and I'm angry at myself for having hurt myself and caused all the inconvenience to everyone around me.

I finally bit the bullet today and took the first step of consulting a lawyer to see if I have a case against Cliff's landlord, for failing to repair the giant pothole in which I fell. I should think I'm at least entitled to compensation for my medical bills, and I'd like to see a judge order the landlord to repair the damn thing for good. (The landlord has made several half-assed attempts to fill in the hole but they never last more than a few weeks. What would probably repair it for good would be to resurface the parking area entirely.) It would be nice if I were entitled to compensation for "pain and suffering" because heaven knows this hurts like crazy. I haven't worked in over a year, so I wouldn't be entitled to compensation for lost wages.

I've calmed myself from how I felt earlier, but a few hours ago (before I ate and took my pain meds) I felt like everything that is wrong right now is my fault and that I should just die. I wanted at least to cut myself to punish myself for not being able to make things right.

I still have to try to find a new psychiatrist, and I probably can't see my counselor on Thursday (as currently planned) because of the money situation. I don't want to find a new psychiatrist; I know I need one, but I hate the process of finding one.

I'm going to eat some mac and cheese; maybe kiddo comfort food will help a little.