Today was one of those days.
I smashed my thumb in a cabinet drawer at work and it's still throbbing. I've developed a horrible twitch in my right eye. Even after sleeping a full eight hours last night, I'm exhausted. I need to put air in my tires, but it's too cold. In a few hours, I'm going to have a serious confrontation with the head of another department at work. I know I'm right and she's wrong, and I'm going to stick to my guns. At least I'm hoping not to cry in front of her.
Because of all this, I refused to let myself feel guilty about eating chocolate cake for breakfast. It was delicious.
I'm on something like cycle day four or five. I don't know. Does it matter? I know I'm in a bad place. Even after going to bed at 9 p.m. last night, I mentioned to Bobby that I'm still exhausted this morning. His first question, "Are you depressed?"
In many ways, yes. Yes I am feeling depressed. I'm seriously suffering from Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD), as is most of the state of Minnesota. It's supposed to be 30 degrees later this week, and let me tell you I will be wearing a mini skirt and flip flops. Heck, I'm going swimming. If I ever see the sun again, I will be laying out and getting a tan.
Is the weather really making me sad, or is it that I failed again on what seemed like a perfect cycle? Is work what's really bothering me, or is it only stressing me out because I'm so distracted by infertility? A friend announced on Sunday that she's pregnant with her second child. It really only confirmed what I already suspected. My pregnancy radar is pretty good. Is her good fortune contributing to my bad mood?
Maybe the start of spring will be enough to pull me out of this gross, lazy depression I've sunk into. Maybe I'll start feeling like a person again instead of feeling how Micky Rourke looks.
|Remember when this guy was a real person?|