Yesterday my facade of being "fine" came crashing down. I actually told someone I felt like hurting myself. It's the first time I have ever been able to ask for help without just waiting for someone to notice. I cried for hours, and didn't think I could ever go back to work.
But today I did. I took two days off for my mental illness (even though I called it a cold--I certainly sounded and felt sick) and during the second day I was questioned and it made everything so much worse.
I've been planning an eventual move to Atlanta but I don't think it's a good idea. My mother suggested I move back home for a year to just get on my feet, financially and health-wise. Even though I don't really want to move home and not have my own apartment, she might be right. The idea of not having money to worry about and just work and let someone else help me sounds like a retreat... At least for a little while. So I will be thinking about that for the next few months. I have until July, and then I need to move out of my current place.