Time for a vent session.

This fucking sucks.  I'm just gonna be super real for a second because I am sick and tired of saying that I'm fine.  I want a damn drink!

There have been some pretty rough days lately.  I don't know why it is so much more difficult recently than it has been, but damn.  I am either not getting invited to events with my friends, or I am surrounded by people getting shit-faced.  I feel like I started with this amazing support system around me and it has just all teetered off.  I don't know what happened.  Maybe it's me.  Sure, I've become a bit less social.  Mainly because I really don't want to go hang out at the bar and watch everyone get drunk.  That shit gets old, bruh.  I can't expect anyone to slow up because of me though.  I'm the one with the problem.  Not everyone else.  So I can't get mad at them for having a good time.

Then I have days like today when I go see the shrink.  They can't directly treat me the way that they want because my blood pressure is too low.  So since she can't treat me for the ptsd, then they are just gonna change my meds again.  So I'll be taking something in the morning, (I can't remember what it's called), and my anxiety meds 3 times a day and then another something at night AND my sleep medicine.  I' convinced that they are just trying to get me fucked up enough to kill the brain waves that make me think about shit.  Although she said, multiple times, that she really wants me to get into therapy.  I told her that I let things go and she said "Did you?  Did you let it go?"  No, bitch...clearly not!  Damnit.

I mean, I get it.  I drink so that I don't have to think.  I hate thinking.  I don't want to think.  So hey....since I don't want to think about it...lets go to therapy and TALK about it.  That makes perfect sense. 

Stupid doctors.