Thoughts

Last night the build up of everything I've been feeling for the past couple of weeks enveloped me and dragged me into its darkness. Things that I used to enjoy seem to do nothing for me anymore. I've slipped into this combination of dissatisfaction and a feeling of helplessness. I'm dreadfully bored with my life and I can't seem to put a finger on why. Just recently it's occurred to me that without change, my life feels trivial and empty. I've always thought of myself as someone who needs consistency and stability in life, but apparently that's not the case. I'm going to get myself some help, some real help. It's a big step for me but I feel like it's time to stop avoiding the inevitable. I've thought about seeing a therapist or counselor for a few years now but was too fearful of ever admitting it out loud. Even now I'm really struggling with picking up the phone and making an appointment for myself. Last night all I could do was stare at the number on my screen and try to pretend like I didn't have an overwhelming need to cry right on the spot. It's a scary thing, admitting you actually need help. I've always taken pride in handling things internally and holding my own. I don't see myself as a very needy person, and I secretly despise the thought of being dependent on someone else for a pick-me-up or something of the sort. But depression runs deep in my family and I can feel myself spiraling into something bigger than anything I can handle on my own.