Small

9:15 p.m.

Hey, so, I'm out of state right now, visiting family. Yesterday was busy. We bought Justin some suits, and I drove down to Denver, and in the morning I saw the psychiatrist.

And....he told me, after some tests, and a lot of questions, and some more paper tests, and then some more questioning, that I have ADD. Along with OCD. I was fairly, oh, stupidly shocked. About the ADD thing.

But then a lot of things started making a lot of sense.

All these things, that just seemed normal to me, because that's just how it's been for always.

And I started some meds. Super expensive meds that I can get for free for two months, and then we'll see what happens.

I feel sort of confused, and sort of scared, and sort of like this explains a lot of things in my life that I have hated and not understood. That things I have done or had trouble doing make a little more sense. If this is the case.

He said if I don't do anything, I could still be obsessing and feeling this horrible about stupid tiny things, or hypothetical situations, or past things that don't matter, when I'm eighty. He said if I do do something, I could be nicer to myself and start feeling better than I have in years, and things could really get better. Potential and all that. He also laughingly said that my main problem is that I have an artist mentality, but we'll let that slide, even though I hate that fucking stereotype.

I sort of feel there is a little hope, a tiny tiny little glimmer of light at the end of a long black tunnel. That maybe I'm not as stupid or as crazy or as worthless as I've always suspected.

We'll see where it all goes.

I'm terrified of this medicine really helping, and then not being able to afford it.

But we'll see where it all goes.

I'm up for just about anything, at this point.

I have this crazy hope I'll be able to finish a movie without going insane halfway through.

Start small, I guess.

Start small.

Love,
black sheeped