I did it.

I looked back though my texts and I couldn't find the exact conversation with Kerri, but somewhere in the past few months (by 'past few months,' I mean like June or something) she suggested I go see a therapist. I have always taken things to heart, it's in my nature, I've always been easily crushed by the tiniest of insults (or even perceived insults).
So after much stress and frustration, I booked an appointment with my GP. OK, fine it took me well over a month to make that appointment, and then it took like another week or two before I got in.
But he referred me to a specialist.
And it took me another two months before I called.
AND THAT took about three more weeks before I got in.
So now it's October. LATE October and I finally saw a therapist.
And I cried so much that I can barely open my eyes the next day.

This might seem like far too much to put out in a public forum. And it probably is. But at the same time, I'm struggling and asking for help is something I'm just not comfortable with. And I did, so now I'm writing about it. I hope that somewhere, someone might be able to relate and get whatever help they need.

My first session was odd. I didn't know where to start. "Where should I begin?" I asked.
"Anywhere." He answered.
And so I did. I talked about the first time I really considered ending my life. Except I couldn't bring myself to say those exact words. I just talked about the stressors that brought me to that point.
For the record, I've never come close. We have a gun in our home, I've never gone looking for it. There are no pills around strong enough to do the job. Actually, there might be, I haven't done the research to find out. I don't think I'm 'that bad.' I'm just not that serious.
But, there are moments. Moments when I think, "What if?" I could just make all this go away.
It's a cop out.
And according to my therapist, it's my attempt at an escape. A fantasy.
I'm quite certain that he is right.
Regardless, a mentally healthy person does not seriously (or even not-so-seriously) consider ending her own life, so I'm getting help.
At one point, I joked, 'And that goes back to my childhood. It always goes back to your childhood, doesn't it?'
Right now, there are lots of things stressing me. I've talked about them here before. Starting a business, feeling left out, and generally watching how those things have an effect on my life at the bakery and at home. But one of the things my therapist pointed out to me was that he thought I was lonely.
Such a haunting word.
He says that even with a room full of people, we can be lonely.
And it was the most obvious smack upside the head I've had in a while. Yes, I am lonely.
I've never had a huge circle of friends. And family- well, you know that story. I'm not close with any of them. I speak to my sisters occasionally, but honestly, it's usually just when they need something.
There have been huge shifts in our friends and friendships lately. People simply drift apart. And I know that I tend to not try as hard as I should. I have a fear that I will end up looking needy. Even if that's exactly what I am. So I leave it with a 'well, if she wanted to talk to me, she would call me' approach. Because I'm afraid. And for many of out friends, they are entering a new part of their lives- babies. Families. Soccer. Schools. Things we will never, ever have in common.
So yes, I'm very lonely.
And this feeling has only become magnified with the bakery. I don't have coworkers that I can go chat with. I have some employees, and we talk, but I pay them so I don't expect them to be my friends.
And the longer this goes on, the farther I feel myself drifting away from everyone.
And I don't know how to swim back in the other direction. So, I sought help.
And while it sucks to feel as if you're not in control of your own life. And it sucks to think that I need a shrink to tell me what's wrong. I know, deep down that there's strength in asking for help. And I'm proud of myself for taking this step. Even it it took forever and a lot of prodding.