So, I spoke to a counsellor and to a doctor, and the verdict is in. I can't Ignore a diagnosis no matter how much I don't like it.
She doubled my dosage, which is ok, it'll get me through to the end of the year, then I can taper back down. I nearly hit the roof when she suggested anger management, but I guess it couldn't hurt. And she wants me to start running on the treadmills in the weight room because she's noticed that I've put on 15-20lbs in the last 6 months or less.
Whatever. I submit. I don't care anymore. the weight room had guys in it when I went at 11:15, but they're open 8am-8pm every day, so we'll see. Honestly, everyone keeps saying, oh, exercise is what you need, it's the best thing ever, exercise is so wonderful.
No. Exercise is embarassing and painful and awkward. But that doesn't matter either.
The library stinks. like litterally, of feet and b.o. I just want to go home. I have to go to Wellness. Talk about a smack in the face... I don't know anymore. I just don't know.