More Goat Bell

Maybe it's the time of year, the miscarriage or just the blues in general. It could be the upcoming meeting with the disability people, seems everyone wants me to admit to being broken. I don't want to take that step. I understand I've got some weird shit going on and it's gotten to the point where it interferes with me having a normal job but I still want one. Admitting that this is a disability feels like admitting that something is unfixable or fundamentally wrong with me.

I know it will help and that I can still pursue college courses but it also means that my worst fears are true. There is something not normal, not right about me. That stinks. It's like I'm between a rock and hard place. I can begin faking normalcy again and drive myself nuts again or I can face the music and go ahead with the appointment. I don't want to hate life again, I don't want to spend every day unhappy, stressed out and crying. I don't want to start thinking of killing myself again and I know that without the help that this is the road I'll go down. So, I guess the lesser of the evils is to buck up and take this step. Admitting to slight schizo/manic issues can't be that bad, right?