Crying jags and distractions

That's what my daily life has become now. I find things to distract me - craft fairs, shopping, books, videogames, movies, TV - and then when I find myself alone and without distractions (in the shower when I'm naked and vulnerable, or in bed when I've got nothing to do but fail to sleep) all the fears and worries flood in and I just start crying and can't stop. In fact, the latter has been happening more and more frequently and sometimes in public. That worries me. Like today, I got "abandoned" on campus after class. I got out at 6:15 and waited and waited, and nobody came (my dad is supposed to pick me up since it's a late class). Still nothing at 7:00; that's when Grandma called and found out that nobody had shown up. She calls my dad, who "totally forgot" about me, and I had been waiting an hour by the time he showed up. It was dark, everyone had gone home (my teacher and her assistant seemed worried about me when they left) and since I had counted on being picked up on time, I hadn't brought a jacket, so I was freezing in my tank top. Somewhere during the waiting, I started thinking about Rob, who had always picked me up when he said he would. I wondered what would happen if I called him (assuming I hadn't deleted his phone number), and I felt quite sure that if he saw my name on his phone now, he wouldn't pick up. It made me just sick to think that there was a good chance that he really would abandon me if I was in trouble, just to avoid having to deal with any displays of affection or trust. And then I started crying, right in the middle of the parking lot. I really did start to feel abandoned. Aren't I pathetic? And then when I get home, I go straight to a hot shower (since I felt so cold) and the tears started welling up before I even got the water running. Then again, I always cry in the shower these days. As I said, I'm alone, and naked, and that makes me feel more vulnerable. Not to mention more aware of those damn marks Rob left on my back (Matt was nice enough to point out that there are actually multiple scars). All it takes is for me to expose that area and then I remember him saying, "I guess I really did scar you for life, ha ha," and I get that lump in my throat. Whenever I'm at home, it seems like all I ever do is cry - everything here seems to remind me of either Rob or Max.

Kerry messaged me. I talked to him for a while. It's weird talking to your ex-husband about the guy you pretty much replaced him with. He does seem to be more open to listening now, not that I'd consider getting back together with him - no way! - but talking about what's making me so depressed kind of alleviates it. Of course, I have to get to the point where I don't have to talk about it, since people will only be willing to listen for so long before they get sick of it.

Lots of medication and supplements taken today. Calcium chew-thing, St. John's wort, B vitamins, C vitamins (supposed to help with depression), Aleve and medicated plasters for all my muscle aches, melatonin for insomnia. You can add birth control pills to the list after Friday (mainly for depression as one of the supplements is supposed to make it malfunction). I'm going to have a hell of a time remembering all this. Might have to invest in one of those big dorky pillboxes.

Found more places that ache. Need more plasters. Going to smell like an old person for the art class field trip tomorrow. I'm so exhausted. Crying really takes it out of you - but I know I won't be able to sleep. Too many worries - Rob, Max, school, my aunt, Milli, Grandma, my parents - and everyone seems to take it as a personal affront that I'm not getting better despite all their "help." Kahi Mohala works closely with my medical insurer, I found out. I may keep that in mind as an option - a stay at a "behavioral health facility" starts to sound like a vacation on days like this.