I actually did some work today, for the first time since I got out of the hospital. I mowed the grass which took 2 hours, so I was able to make a little money and make the minimum payment on my credit card for this month and I have an extra $10. I got a gross blister on my thumb as payment. I guess I have delicate hands, they always get blistered when I work. A life of not doing anything shows through. It's not by choice, however, I'm so scared of everything. Next month my bill is going to be so large, I'm horrified to think about it. I'm going to have to start working a lot more than just 2 hours a week, I don't know what else to do and I can't even start to think about having a real job with how much anxiety I have now. I really hope the psychiatrist isn't a jerk and will give me some antianxiety medication so I can deal with life and actually leave this house. I'm getting more and more impatient to see the psychologist so I can get that stupid referal. I am sick of this depression. I'm sick of crying for no reason. I'm sick of feeling teary-eyed and not being able to cry. I'm sick of being emotionally confused and numb. I'm sick of myself.