red text is bad, right?

My benefits include access to an online Employee Assistance Program, which I signed up for today. Out of curiosity and refusal to think about PCI compliance for one second longer, I took their self-assessment quiz to see if they agree with my self diagnosis of “depressed, holla” – and judging by the emergency red text that seems to think I am mere seconds from flinging myself out my window and onto the pavement below, we are on the same page.

About the crazy, I mean. Not the flinging. If I flung, I would break my iPhone.

I’m navigating through the maze of the internet to find myself a therapist. If anyone out there has one they think is super awesome and wouldn’t mind sharing contact information with me, please email me – otherwise I’m gonna go with the person who has the best name and specifically mentions they specialize in “EFAP” (which, as far as my exposure to the internet is concerned, means they’re an expert in cyber masturbation).

Baby steps, and all that. Still, I feel good about Doing Something about all of this. The world is woefully short of rainbows and ponies as it is; being trapped outside my own happy silly place is cold and lonely.

not shown: ponies

i am the sum of all my parts