I feel pointless and ridiculous continuing to post here. But I need somewhere to speak. Just the odd comfort of knowing that someone else knows somewhere, even with the distinct ambiguity of the forum. I lost one of my medications. Though lost may not be true. It may be somewhere in my bedroom. I haven't actually looked that hard. Apparently, though I know I very, very much should, I just don't really care. My other medication has a regimen that I can't seem to keep up with despite alarms and other reminders, so I've been taking that one erratically. I regret ever going on medication. I was anxious, but my depression had always been intermittent and mild, now it is constant and overwhelming. It's no excuse though. While taking my medication correctly seems to have adverse effects, not taking them properly is infinitely stupid and self-defeating. I can't seem to get up the energy to care though. I just worry about it without purpose. My grades, even within my major, have fallen. I haven't done the majority of the work for my classes in weeks. I complete the major assignments, but not anywhere near as well as I once would have. I go to class but pay no attention. When I pay attention I cannot maintain my concentration or manage to comprehend, it just sweeps past me. I sleep but get no rest. I'm twenty years old, but my short term memory is verging on the ridiculous. I forget appointments, and can't seem to find a way to remember. In fact, I am relatively sure that I forgot my last appt. with my prescribing therapist. At this point I am too embarassed to call. Also ridiculous. I lose or forget everything. My bedroom is a mess. my organizational skills have completely devolved. i get a little manic (something that never happened before I was on meds) and clean obessively for awhile, but get nothing done. In the end I just realise i spent a lot of time doing nothing, moving things from place to place, making a small dent but never finishing. Suicidal thoughts are a constant presence in my mind. I am still obsessing over pointless things that happened months ago. No matter where I go, no matter where I am or what I do or am doing, the same rambling parade of thoughts are ramming against my brain. My mind is a prison. I ramble here, talking to no one really, because I seem to have utterly lost the ability to maintain my friendships. I was always a relatively social person, but now I can't seem to connect with anyone on a substantial level. I feel so isolated but even when I am speaking with or touching someone I might as well be a million miles away. most of what comes out of my mouth is ponderous, superficial or blundering. Speaking seems like a chore. And the only things I really want or need to speak, are not allowed. I am pondering telling my therapist the full and continued extent of my suicidal/obsessional thoughts, but I am both hopeful and deathly afraid that she will feel the need to tell my family (or whatever it is they are allowed to do, I'm unsure as to how it works) or have me hospitalized. I cannot continue on this way, but mental illness is a taboo in my family on a level I cannot even begin to explain. I can only feel that any good a hospitalization would do would be negated by the resulting family freak out. It would change my relationship with my parent's irrevocably. Perhaps in some ways it would be for the better, but being who I am, it would be disastrous. But I do wish it. Wish someone would take this out of my hands. I think I'm getting paranoid. Not conspiracy theory, x-files, boogie-monster paranoid, but something like paranoid. I don't trust my memory or my judgement. My interactions with people have become difficult because I second guess everything I do or think. I feel so awkward and transparent and scrutinized. Silly since most people pay a limited amount of attention to anything outside themselves. and i don't mean that in a cynical, bitter, emo way. it's just true. we all have our own lives and are caught up in them. I'm sure I'm oblivious 90% of the time. I even feel uncomfortable around my therapist. If I was her I am sure I would either be shaking my head internally and thinking I'm crazy, or wishing I could shake me and tell me to stop being a thick, whining, child. even this post makes me feel like a self-involved, awkward failure. I feel so hopeless and helpless. and afraid. and isolated. I can't keep this up. and i am sorry for this rambling post. i just don't know where to go or what to say or who to say it too. at least here i can know i put it out there somewhere, even if no one manages to slog through the rambling.