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Something has to change here. 

I have never felt so emotionally bad in my life.  And I absolutely cannot tell whether this is a (lack of) medication thing, or whether it's a PTSD thing, or whether it's just life and grief and so on.  I feel just wrecked.  All the time.  And it's not getting better; if anything, it's getting worse.

And I hate to say it, but it makes me wonder about Michael.  He stopped taking Cymbalta in October, and after that, everything got worse.  It's again, hard to abstract one thing from another... the blood sugar issues, the hospitalization, so on...  but I wonder.  He said again and again how bad he felt, but he couldn't/wouldn't tolerate another medication.  It is useless to speculate on it, but I wonder what role this played in his death.  I know he tried to fight it. 

I am not suicidal, not at all.  But I am miserable.  Deeply, horribly miserable.  And just frightened by the oddest things, by closeness, intimacy... but at the same time, I'm so much worse when I'm alone.  I'm also terrified of how awful everything seems so much of the time, and it's not about reality; it's about something inside. 

I have to do something to break this cycle.  I don't want it to be, go back on meds.  Can't risk it, not now that my weight is falling, and I'm starting to feel physically better.  It's going to have to be something different.  Have to be.