So.

I fucked up really badly last night, and I have a shameful confession: I had gone off my depression meds for a very vain and stupid reason, and had convinced myself the couple of warning signs this was Really Not Okay were something I could manage.

I got into a series of conversations with my housemates that accidentally hit some real sensitive buttons, had a panic attack, and lashed out at myself in a way that was profoundly likely to alarm the people around me. -->

--> For a whole host of reasons, I don't disagree that it's time for me to move out. It hurts, but last night was the culmination of a lot of things that were not healthy for me. I'm feeling less self-destructive, and trying to see this as an opportunity now.

I'm dropping all grievances against my housemates; I can't see how anyone but me could really be responsible for this reaction to a couple of very minor arguments. I'm also going back on my meds IMMEDIATELY. -->

--> I did some muttering last night about drifting apart from the community, but I think that was born of abject terror I'll have to move to Ohio and give up *everything* I had. I don't think I can do this without you.

I'm begging you, please don't treat me like damaged goods. My reaction was due to an extremely foolish mistake in my personal braincare. I have a physical on Wednesday and will mention this all happened in hopes of getting a psych MD again. -->

--> I think I'm past being self-destructive over this, though I'm still terrified. I'm really not good at things like moving-- I've never once had to do anything like this by myself in my life-- and the borrowed stress of what MIGHT happen is wracking me.

I've accepted I need some serious brainwork and that Kristy and Jessie's reaction to my scary outburst of self-threats and random acting out was not at all unreasonable.

Now I'm going to need you folks more than ever. -->