Ah, well…it was bound to happen.
There are so many reasons behind my silence. None of them good, but worry not--none of them are horrible or insurmountable, either.
But I need to give this a voice, and this may be a particularly dreary blog entry.
Consider yourself, loved friend, warned.
Well, with that warning, let me share something very good: I realized in late July that my thoughts were weighing me down more than usual and more than the healthy range for myself. I have no concrete way of measuring that—it’s just something I know. And I knew something was amiss. So I called beloved Dr. C, my fantastic psychologist, and made an appointment to see her. Pregnancy brings a lot of changes, and also a lot of traumatic memories for me of my pregnancy with C. Since I am determined to enjoy this pregnancy as much as possible, I’m also determined to take care of myself in every way I can (and this alone is not something I’m good at—this taking care of yourself business). This doesn’t just mean eating right and all that jazz, but mental health as well. Seeing Dr. C every two weeks or so is helping me maintain perspective and also reminding me to carve out some time for myself when I can to do something I enjoy by myself or with friends.
At this very moment, I feel (in no particular order):
Physically disgusting and repulsive, haunted, invisible, unloveable, weary and annoyed, unappreciated, resigned, messy, in need of a respite . . .
This is a vast improvement on how I felt yesterday. Yesterday was hell. When A came home, I warned him I had a bad day and wanted to keep things light to end the day on a good night.
For reasons I cannot fathom, around 10:30 last night, sweet A turned to me and said, “I know you’re not going to like this, but I would feel so much safer if we had a gun in the house, with the economy the way it is and all.”
Must. Breathe. Do. Not. Scream. Sit. Stay. Talk.
BREATHE.
I could have sprinted 10 miles easily last night, I was so tense about everything. The gun was just icing on the bad-day cake the Fates gorged me on yesterday.
Bad-Day cupcakes use knives, not guns.
(I shall post more about the gun issue later, I do not have the energy at the moment.)
1 comment:
WHit,
Sorry you are feeling these things. I am starting to get a little nervous over the multiple guns we own (like 3 I think). Did you hear my Valentine's day story about how Matt got me a rifle for Valentine's Day because I like to go shooting sometimes? Well I do but it was NOT my ideal gift for that point in time, I was like 14 or so weeks then maybe less... Yeah. I know Matt would never give up his guns (or mine I guess for that matter) but it does make me nervous to have them when we have a kid around. Something I will talk with him about soon. Are your worries about it do to C or more philosophical in nature?
aly
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