I feel like a big litter-encrusted cat turd. My coffee maker isn't working right, I stepped in cat barf this morning, and my neighbor spent a little time on his side of the house between his and ours at the very moment I opened the side door in my bleach-spotted shirt and two-day unwashed hair, so I was embarassed by that and the state of my side weed bed, porch, and kitchen. I have an endless list of stuff to clean and organize. I'm still not working. I did nothing useful yesterday but unload and reload the dishwasher. To say that I feel like a lazy, useless tub of goo is an understatement.

John goes to individual counseling tonight. Don't think I haven't thought of going instead. I'm sure it's apparent I need it, but he is it he one scheduled, so he will be going. I'll go next week, so I have to steel myself for another week. I've finally decided to straight-up ask for drugs.

There have been times I think I need medication and times I think I didn't. The times I thought I didn't always outweighed the times I thought I did. I figured if there were those breaks where I felt OK, then I really didn't need anything. Plus there's the part of me that thinks if I can't kick this on my own, I'm the weak, pathetic loser I always accused myself of being. So I remained a weak, pathetic loser seven out of every eight weeks while I asked myself over and over again, "What's wrong with me?"

What's wrong with me is I'm refusing to get the help I so clearly need. I put on my bright, happy face whenever I see other people or even the therapist, while at home I'm depressed, reclusive, and stagnant. John and the kids see this side, but they're the only ones. Everyone else gets the "there's nothing wrong with me" Cindy. The only time anyone gets an inkling of the cloud that hangs over me is when they come over to the house and see the overall deterioration. But I suspect most just think we're slobs and wonder why we can't straighten up and live like decent people. Little do they know it's the physical manifestation of my emotional state. My house is a wreck. I'm a wreck.

The past few days, I've really been analyzing myself and my situation. I sobbed uncontrollably to John over the weekend, and he did exactly what he was supposed to do--consoled me and told me he would help take care of things. I felt a lot better, but that deep-rooted feeling of sadness wasn't gone. I knew no matter how much he did, the real help was going to have to come from me.

I complained about not having any friends a couple entries back, and I've been thinking about that too, mostly by looking at my own behavior over the years. I don't go out. I don't participate in any activities. I don't talk to people unless I have to. I don't even answer the phone unless I'm in the mood to talk to someone. Yet when I've taken personality tests in the past, I'm always considered an extrovert. I'm an extrovert, but I'm not acting like it. I'm paralyzed by what people might think of me, the imagined criticisms and dislike. I dread social events, meeting people, and sometimes even spending time with family. This isn't like me.

Another thing that's not like me is the negativity. I have adopted this doomsday outlook about everything when I used to be very optimistic. On more than one occasion, our counselor told me she thought I was a generally happy person. And I think I am, underneath all this mess.

These unwanted traits got worse when I moved. I no longer had Kay and my other friends dragging me out of the house or coming over and making me do things. I no longer had my own family to keep me connected. I went from a great network of people to no real network. John's family was here, which I thought would be a good thing, but with the fuzzy boundaries and dysfunctional nature, it served more harm than good. I became very lonely, not helped by my ongoing loneliness in my marriage.

So now that the marriage is working better, I need to get myself working better. Obviously, what I'm doing now isn't working. I don't think I can get past these overwhelming feelings of self-loathing without some backup. As much as I feel like it's a failure on my part, I'm more a failure without it.

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