My vacation was wonderful. Quiet, relaxing and besides waking up to strong as winds at 1am Friday morning and turning on the weather to hear that there are rotating clouds and possible tornado touch down in the tiny town I was staying at, things were for the most part more wonderful than I could have hoped for.

Came home Friday (through more tornado infested storms) and walked in the door at 5.15pm. Walked back out at 6p and went to my parents. A few minutes after coming home I became upset that I was home. Upset that I had cleaned and there was no familar clutter to comfort me. I broke down crying minutes after putting down my purse and I couldn't stop crying. I unpacked thinking that would keep me occupied and calm me down. It didn't help. So sobbing, I called mom and asked if I could come home. I've never called home crying before and hearing me upset her. Apartment equals depression and depression equals apartment. Probably explains why I feel a bit better when i'm out of the house.

I got to my parents house around 8.30pm, went to bed less than an hour later and slept 12 hrs. It's been a long time since I've slept that long and that heavy. Mom kept me busy either around the house or going somewhere. Sunday she told me that everyone's been worried about me and that she thinks I should see a dr. I told her that I've been going to a therapist and have an appt with a psychritrist. She seemed to feel better knowing that I've been getting help. My brother was on a mini vacation of his own as well and had gone camping but when he was home he sorta avoided me and when we were together seemed to treat me like a fragile glass vase or something. Dad did too, but not as bad. Mom however had me chopping veggies, painting the house numbers, reading and what ever else she could think of to keep me from being static for too long.

Saturday we went to Muskogee to flea market/antique shop. Mom bought me a ceramic wall pocket with violets on it and I bought myself a nearly new hardback cookbook of simple one dish meals.