I realize it's been a while since I've updated. Looking through the archives, the silence in between posts sometimes says a lot more than the posts themselves; however, this is likely of no assurance to you.

So I feel like I ought to tell you this: the depression that had been bothering me so much in Chicago (and a little bit over break) came back even worse. Thus I didn't attend my first classes of the semester. That time was instead spent in therapists' offices and later a multi-day treatment program at a nearby hospital, which I was (thankfully) discharged from today.

To answer your questions:

• I'm not physically hurt, nor did I attempt to put myself in harm's way.
  
• The treatment program was not fun. But it helped. A lot.
• I'm going to be cutting back the number of classes I'm taking. The alternative was taking the semester off, which didn't seem like a good idea.
• I'm not going to be living in the dorms. This means living at home until everything gets sorted out. (I know - this one is dripping with enthusiasm.)
  
• I'm also in the process of finding a job. This is partially for the money thing, partially for the getting-out-of-the-house thing.
  
• This is super preliminary, but: there's a very good chance I'll be transferring again. The problem I've made with my college choices thus far is that I haven't researched them very well. Keep in mind that this is preliminary; another reason I'm still attending classes at Drake is that maybe it's a good idea for me to stay there.

Though the treatment thing was not fun (the leader of the group described it as "like elementary school", which is true, though I'd like to propose an addendum: "like elementary school but more depressing") it certainly helped a lot. I had kind of an epiphanic moment while I was there.

The moment went like this: I felt like shit. Everyone else felt like shit, which in turn made me feel more like shit. Repeat cycle. And then a thought bubble popped up, and it said this: You can either try to work your way out of this - and it WILL be a lot of work and planning - or you can stay here.

You can guess which option was more appealing.

Anyway: I am working my way out of this. I've done a lot of reflection and talking about what comes next and I'm doing a hell of a lot better than earlier. It's going to take a while to work out of this, but what matters is that I have a plan and that I'm working hard on it. And that's good.

PS: One of the things that also sucked about the treatment program was the hyper-literal quality about it. In the treatment program environment, there is no place for irony - which makes sense, don't get me wrong; in an environment like that, everything that is said is best taken seriously. So the pragmatist in me understands, but the humor-lover in me bemoans that. Case in point: before I took a 500 question(!) personality test - which was more like a personality disorder test - the nurse looked at me straight in the eyes and said "Don't worry; you can't fail the personality test" without the slightest trace of irony. Again, I realize the importance of complete and utter sincerity in such an environment; however, when one sees a door labeled "ADULT STORAGE" and one asks "Where do you store the babies?" and receives nothing but concerned stares, one starts to seriously ponder what brought them there and how they would go about getting out of that place and never returning.

PSS: I hope this post didn't freak you out too much. I just feel like you deserve to know how I'm doing. If you have any questions for me about this, just call or text. Seriously. If you read this, it probably means I care about you and vice versa.

PSSS: After a series of really terrifying and hopeless moments where I hadn't even smiled for a couple of days, this video succeeded in bringing the biggest of huge ass-grins to my face.