Alright, so my last post was a major downer, duh. I am sorry to report that since last Monday, while my depression has, I dunno, fluttered a bit, I still feel like there is a lead weight sitting on my heart. I'm not thinking so much about the wedding anymore, and thankfully people have stopped asking me about it. There are still things to take care of: I haven't designed an announcement yet, and I need to get on that as it's getting a bit late, plus I'm still fighting with my photographer, and I haven't finished writing thank you notes. I tried, actually, but my hand hurt too much and I had to stop after five. Bagh.
So I still haven't quite figured out what's causing this nasty mood. It came on so suddenly and went through so many dynamic waves that it seems it has to be chemical. There is definitely something hormonal happening - so much so, in fact, that for a good five days there I had half convinced myself that I was pregnant. (I'm not. This has been confirmed by four tests.) I really wanted to find an answer there, even though bearing a child is physically probably one of the worst things I could put myself through. But you see, it's an answer. And it's something that happens to other people. Plenty of them. But... no.
OK. So what then? The only smidgen of an answer I can come up with is that I feel like everything is too much because... well... it is. Putting the wedding together was both emotionally and physically difficult, and then it was a disappointment. I am now married, which though it isn't much of an actual change is a huge thing to wrap my mind around nonetheless. Plus - I'm just sort of trickling this information out, because it's still far away and contingent on many factors coming together - Jonathan and I have pretty much decided to move to New Orleans next year. So that's enormous on more levels than I'd care to count right now.
And then there's the health issues. Tomorrow morning I'm going to see a new doctor, since my old doc won't take my new health insurance and I haven't been too thrilled with him lately anyway. It's always so nervewracking to see new doctors. You just don't know if they'll listen to you, or just try to shove drugs at you, or belittle your pain and other symptoms, or what.
On top of that, on Friday I'm finally having my left two wisdom teeth taken out. The top one has been broken for about eight years. (Yes, you read that correctly.) I'm fairly terrified of the surgery itself - will the gas make me sick? will I feel pain when I'm not supposed to? will there be complications removing the teeth, making everything take much longer? will they have to cut into my jaw? etc, etc, etc. I have to go alone, and somehow get myself home afterward, which I'm just thrilled about let me tell you. Then there's the afterparty: will I heal? will my jaw be sore for days from being cranked open like that? will the sounds haunt me? is the pain in my face and jaw actually from this bad tooth, or is it trigeminal neuralgia? TMJ? some other neurological dysfunction?
All of this, of course, is piled on top of my normal host of utter crap. Constant headache, flaring sciatica because the weather keeps changing, sleeping for shit because of everything I've mentioned so far and just because, plus my IBS has been flaring up. And have I ever mentioned that I hate my job?
So, uh, yeah. I'm depressed, and anxious. I think anyone who was in my position right now and wasn't a bit unhappy could be said to be steeped in some serious denial, no? I'm thinking I have some legitimate things to be worked up over. Maybe there is some chemical component; I don't know, and I'm not sure what I can do about it. It would probably be best if I would stop consuming mass amounts of sugar, but that's really hard to do when I'm feeling this stressed. (Yeah, go ahead and tell me it's not an addiction when I'm practically clawing at my desk jonesing for a peanut chew.)
My fondest hope at the moment is that the new doctor is great, the surgery goes smoothly and I recover quickly, my photographer gets his head out of his ass and does what he's supposed to, and I can just start dealing with my everyday life again. Because frankly, that's more than enough all by its little ol' self.