So....
I haven't blogged in so long, that I anticipate this post will never actually be read by another mortal. Ah, well. The important thing is the "therapeutic value" I receive, right?
I have spent the last few months in an utter depression. Not just a depression, mind you, an utter depression. I am sure that seems odd to anyone that knows me- I have almost anything a woman could hope for. Hell, I have just about everything I've ever hoped for. But, I am learning that "woman cannot live on fufilled fantasies alone". Heh.
Why am I so bummed? We are still figuring that out. I am married to a gorgeous, ambitious, sensitive man. I have the most hilarious, wonderful daughter. I am blessed with another darling on the way, created all to easily with our very first try. I live in a house that I live, in a wondeful neighborhood....Hmmmm...yeah, I got it bad, don't I? Yet, a week ago, I found my pregnant self in an intake room at a mental health facility explaining to a couselor that I had lost the will to live.
So, here's the funny part. Pregnant chick walks in, lost the will to live, right?... "Are you suicidal?" I am asked. "No, I am pregnant. Suicide would be to close to Susan Smith. That's just insane. But, if I woke up dead through no fault of my own, that would be A- OK." Well, I am not hearing voices, so I am sane enough to go home and make an appointment with a counselor to see if they can work with my schedule. Yeah, thanks. In a furry of anger, I go ahead and make such appointment. Well, they can see me in a week. (Did I mention I have lost the will to live???? ) To make a long story short, I found a counselor, and I see her again today. The funny part is that the same facility that I made the appointment with called yesterday- they are going to have to move my appointment. Ummmm...yeah...thanks, but I have decided to see someone that cared enough to get me in within 24 hours, because she fucking understood the fact that I have lost the will to live. Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight.
Like my friend, whose blog I was reading the other day, my hub has been amazing. Unfortunately, he thinks this has something to do with him. He knows better than that, he simply forgets. He wants to help so badly, but his hands are tied.
The problem is being dissected by my couselor, who is awesome...it has to do with the fact that I am alone. At least, that's why my old bags of shit are being brought up from the storage bins of my life. My friends stopped calling, and my responsibilities are constant, and my husband is always gone. When I have tried to make plans, I have had to cancel due to his schedule or my daughter's. So I have been filled with hormones and thoughts. Now, I am simply afraid to leave the house. I've been here too long. And too long without friends, without my former self.
The last week has been better since I talked to Jerri (my counselor). She rocks. A total earthy chick in her forties...I love her vibe! My hub and I have had sex three times this week. I have put on lipstick again. I went out with my only buddy left...my ex, ugh, another story. I am still not myself, but considering a week ago, I sat most of the day being unresponsive...I see a marked improvement.
