You'd think I'd be writing on here more since my school schedule isn't too chaotic and sporadic like last semester, but funnily enough, there never seems to be enough time in the day, even for small things like this.
     Lately, I have been going to 45-minute therapy sessions -- I've been to about five or six now -- and I like to believe they're beneficial to not only my moods, but my outlook on myself and the world around me. Also, I was prescribed 50mg of an antidepressant drug that I am to take daily. I've been taking it for about a month now, but I have yet to see any results. I understand that the drug itself won't make me happy, however I do know that it's supposed to set me in the right direction, and even make me feel like one-hundred-million pounds have been lifted off my chest, but I think there's still tons of shit on top of me that I have to dig myself out of.
     At first, I was almost entirely opposed to drugs. I hated the idea mostly because it was being channelled by the fear of dependency and addiction. I thought I would be much worse if I were to be accustomed to the effects of the drug and then ween myself off them (doctor's orders, of course), but then feel worse than when I started. Hey, at least there's no weight gain -- if anything my appetite was obliterated and I've lost about nine pounds since I was put on the drug. (At least I'm not in the zombie phase anymore.)
     Another thing I've noticed since being on this drug is my mood swings have been a roller coaster ride from Hell. One minute I'll be laughing at what my dad said from dinner and before I know it I'll be in bed sobbing because who knows why. I don't know why, certainly. I wish I did. But this is all temporary I hope. This is just my body adapting to the new chemicals in its system.

     To bring therapy back up: it's going really well and seems to be very constructive when piecing together a variety of perspectives in my life. It's casting light in the dark and replacing good with the bad. Leslie, my therapist, is equipping me with useful knowledge, skills, tips and effective insight that I am cherishing more than she knows. I need to stop expecting so much out of myself for one. My standards for myself and expectations are so incredibly high that I set the bar so high it's nearly touching impossibility. I'm not perfect, I know that much (all too well); I need to stop expecting myself to be perfect because I am human and my mistakes and how I handle them are what define me, not just my mistakes.
     Another thing I need to stop doing is questioning every god damn good thing that comes into my life. Whenever something good happens, I get so anxious of losing it that eventually and ironically I push it away before it can go to soften the blow of it's absence. Namely Metin. This is an amazing thing in my life. My relationship with him is the finest thing I've got. It's something that it's unmatched on every level of it, but I need to stop expecting him to say every fucking thing perfectly because if I keep up with thinking this is all one big fantastic paradise in my head then I'll only be disappointed. This sounds harsh, but I'm only acknowledging that the both of us are imperfect, although that doesn't mean we can't be perfect for each other. For instance, today I was thinking in the shower (I always seem to be pensive in the shower [note: acquire aquatic writing desk]), Metin and I are literally perfect for each other. I know you don't believe me, and I'm even surprised I believe myself when I say it, but we are. I really know that we make up for what the other lacks and complement each other to really bring out the best in ourselves. I've never written and sent anyone a love letter before. It's exhilarating. I highly recommend it. I love you, Metin.
     So, for now, I can't trust these irrational feelings. When I'm deep in an episode I'll hear a voice in my head telling me what a worthless shit I am and usually it's my voice, but until recently I realized it's my mother's, too. I need to block and outrun those voices. They're merely illusion, all in my head, yet I was blind to see how much control it had over me. I've been so controlled in this deep depression that I haven't even built a life for my twenty-year-old self.

blah, okay. Sorry about the rambling. I think I'm going to bed. Sorry to cut it so short. This is starting to turn into a diary. blah.ngregjr;ngk; thank you for reading.