I have to be up soon.
But my mind is racing quite a bit.
You see, I struggle with depression.
Within the last two months, it’s gotten much worst.
Through medication, counseling, and a string of crooked, handwritten suicide notes, we saw only one option.
Take me out of school.
(Five weeks before graduation.)
I was basically dragged out of my apartment and brought to my hometown that I’ve always despised.
I told Mother that I didn’t care if I crawled across the graduation stage in May, I would be getting my degree.
It wouldn’t happen.
She was right.
I came home.
I needed to.
Now I’m in a larger city with a well-known intensive outpatient therapy clinic.
Staying in a hotel that isn’t home, so doesn’t ease the nerves.
I’ll be here for three weeks.
Tomorrow is my first day.
I arrive at 8:15 with Dad.
Although I wish it were Mom because she always knows where to go and what to do.
She acts nervous enough for both of us so I don’t have to.
I don’t know what it will be like.
There are things I’m looking forward to.
There are things I’m dreading.
For now I’m holding on to prayer and a Chelsea Handler book because that’s all I have.