Depression. What a word, used so often so lightly, and inappropriately. I am not sure if I am using it inappropriately as well when it comes to myself, but rest assured that I have been thinking about getting a professional's opinion on that for... uh... years already.

It seems like my 3 1/2 years in the US have put a temporary halt on my mental and emotional degeneration, but now I am back here... back for good... and it seems like the good old black hole has been just waiting here with arms wide open, eager for my return.

Maybe it's just the weather, and the cold that I am not used to anymore. But the so called "winter depression" usually doesn't commence before January or February, when people can't deal with months of darkness and cold anymore, after so long. I don't know of anyone suffering from winter depression in October.

No, it's not that, really. It's also not a "bad mood". It's constant heartache, and this overwhelming feeling of loss. It's the old feeling of being insufficient and worthless that is following me around like a shadow ever since I dropped out of University, and that makes me cringe everytime I come even close to an academic building (- of which there are many, here), and which has left me alone for the most part while I was in LA.

It's this feeling of being lonely, misjudged, misunderstood. Feelings that are usually attributed only to young people going through puberty. But I am not. I am in my mid-twenties, and I have this distinct feeling that my life is over. That I am in a dead-end one-way street. Nothing will come from here, everything good has already happened.

And at the same time the knowledge that I have to keep this to myself for the most part, since nobody I try to talk with understands. They think I should be glad to be back here, they say I should be happy to have a job, they tell me it has been the logical choice, that there was nothing for me in LA with future, and they react irriated and angry when being faced with my melancholy and my longing for a place I cannot be at anymore. They tell me to "stop already, nobody can listen to this anymore".

So I am not letting them hear it. I smile. Hey, it's all good. And I guess it is - I guess I can consider myself lucky that I am not in the same state of mind that I have been in 4 years ago, when I didn't care if a car was coming while I was crossing heavy traffic streets without looking, and when open windows on high ground exerted an almost irresistable pull on me. I am also not carving into my arms anymore with scissors. So yes, I guess I am really lucky.

Of course, there is The Fiancé. What can I say about The Fiancé. I could say a lot, but I won't. Other than that he isn't helping, is not considerate of me in any way. And I, in turn, feel even worse for I am not able to be the same cheerful and happy person that he got to know and love, and I feel horrible for feeling so dead inside. Libido? I want start to cry when he touches me or kisses me, and I stop short of scratching his face, when he does.

Emotional health has a lot to do with it. How can I feel sensual or sexual, when my heart is being squeezed to death by iron claws. How can I feel sensual or sexual about him when he throws me one piece after another that feels like a dagger digging in between the iron claws, instead of him trying to help me to loosen the grip, try to lift me out of the hole I am in. All he does is toss dirt into it, really.

So when I am not emotionally okay with him, he isn't emotionally okay with me, in turn. But for me to be okay with him, I need to feel that he is okay with me, regardless. The only I way I know of to get him emotionally okay with me is to make him okay physically first, and now we're right there - caught in a vicious circle that I can't get out of: I am loathing it, "doing him favors", he knows that I am, loathes me for it, the problems get worse.

And of course, my way of deflecting the blows and the hurt and the numbness is to fight. I am never as aggressive and spiteful as I am when I feel beaten down on the ground the most. When I feel most overwhelmed, and most helpless. When I need a hug and tender, loving words the most. When my instincts tell me to crouch and hide and cry, I stand up straight and blow into everybody's face who "deserves to feel my wrath", of course earning more hurt in response.

And of course - the outside world wouldn't have a clue. Of course I am all smiles and enthusiasm about my relationship. My best friend said to me not too long ago that back then she didn't have a clue that my ex and I even had a hint of problems, until one day suddenly I called her crying, telling her that it was over, after 3-something years of "perfect world". She said to me that I wouldn't open up and spill out anything until way after the fact, when no good advice could help me anymore, or no friendly words could make me feel better anymore. And it's true. I am taking it, swallowing it down, trying to digest it all by myself, ignoring the growing ulcer. I have always done that. I would bite my tongue off rather than to call anyone and ask them to come over to talk with me, and in fact even in LA I have done it only twice with my best friend there. Twice in two years, and countless arguments...

I am still doing it now. Show no weakness. Avoid everything that may cause people to look down on you. Don't let people ridicule you for your shortcomings. Don't open up for a "I told you so". Don't let them tell you that you deserve it, because of the way you are. Don't give them grounds to attack you with your own weakness later.

That is why you will never see me seek professional counselling. I cannot open up to the people close to me (as close as I let them, anyway), the hell I will open up to a stranger whose only real interest is the money he's making off my problems. And speaking of money: who has enough for the kind of care that I would need? Aside from the fact that I can imagine few things more embarrassing than to go to my doctor, ask him for prescription counselling for depression, and him laughing at me, telling me I was only in a bad mood, and it'll go away.

You see how fucked up this is? I am scared of going to the doctor, for I am living in constant fear that I will be outed a hypochondriac, being exposed to more ridicule, nevermind the fact that I may be seriously ill. So I was scared to get my first eye exam after I told everybody "I think I need glasses", for fear that the doc might tell me I am only imagining my bad eye sight, so I was scared to go to the hospital with a half-burst appendix and didn't allow my mom to call the ambulance for fear the doc will laugh at me and tell me it was only gas, and so I am equally scared of getting my ears checked out next week, because I have told everybody I have bad hearing, and now I am scared the doc will not find my problem and say that I can hear perfectly fine, and I'll have people laugh at me and tell me that I just didn't *want* to hear certain things, under the "excuse" of bad hearing.

I am a walking issue, I swear.

Maybe I should really consider it, though. What good is it to keep constantly complaining about my emotional and mental status, when at the same time I am not ready to take the help that may be available to me. If there is a possibility for me to stop being a bother to my surroundings and I am not taking it, it is my own fault if my surroundings eventually turn away from me. If there is a possibility for me to feel better, I should try everything in my might to do so, for the sake of not only me, but everybody around me.

I apologize for boring you with this entry.