Really don't. The medical problems which I do not discuss in their
detail here because they are just too icky seem insurmountable. And
they make me feel like a unisex snail with goosh inside the brittle
shell. The work load . . . I am just not keeping up and don't know how
to fix that. The money problems are huge. Leif and I in same house is
key to practical success, and Maria wants it, but . . . gawd, it makes
all worse for me inside my heart.

I don't have a clue what good therapy would do . . .I have seen a
therapist on and off since I was 10 years old. Only once did it
actually help and give me tools to alter my perspective. Sometimes
they are just idiots. I am sorry. I know that sounds superior, but it
is truly true.

I don't do too well with women therapists, and men usually are too
formal or . . . I don't know. For example, I saw a guy who specializes
in PTS and he kept insisting that was what I had, not depression, not a
host of other things but that. He "saw" it everywhere (though I do not
fit symptons too clearly). Another specializes in boarderline and saw
that everywhere. Another bipolar and same thing and on and on and on.
I have had so many different lables.

I feel suicidal. Just in feeling, not in action. Sucked into a vortex.
Skin flayed. Mind imploding. I don't know what to do to make real
concrete moves toward health. I feel desperate.

Rosena