To follow up on my menopause post from last week…I JUST NOW got a follow-up call from my doctor and the news is “You’re not in menopause…far from it.”
Well, I guess that’s good news…that still doesn’t explain what is going on with me, but from a purely laboratorial/scientific point of view I’m normal.
The New Year has ushered in a fresh case of anxiety/depression for me. I mean, nothing outwardly is any worse, but inside things are all screwed up. I believe I have some sort of seasonal affective disorder which would make sense since the last 10 out of the last 13 days have been overcast. Seriously, if you stepped off a plane in Charlotte and no one told you where you were you’d swear you were in London.
It hit me this weekend, and it was not pretty and I’m sad to say a closet door took collateral damage. It took the blunt of my frustration and anger. My poor, longsuffering husband was able to save it. Why a closet door? Because the last straw last night was when I opened up the washing machine only to discover that a stray Kleenex had dissolved in the washing machine resulting in a white microfiber haze over my husband’s new black sweater among other items. I lost it. I mean LOST IT! The closet door was the first thing I grabbed. Poor closet door…it never hurt anybody.
I won’t go into the whole sordid story, but a blackness descended upon me and I felt like I couldn’t breathe all day yesterday. I went to church, but I was a zombie other than the fact that I was crying the whole time. I had also had a meltdown before church, because all I seem to be able to do in church is cry, and it’s embarrasing. So, since I cried in church throughout most December I sort of have a vicious circle going on…fear of crying results in crying! I now have pre-church anxiety…nice.
I am dealing with some fear of 2009, because of all the generalized fear lurking out there and the harsh realities of a couple of situations in my life. I feel boxed in…sort of like when I put my kitten, Samson, in the pet carrier in order to take him to the vet. He knows what’s coming, and he has a “Tasmanian Devil” moment where he’s thrashing and spinning because he knows where he’s going, and it isn’t any fun. That’s how I feel…like I’ve been put in a very small pet carrier and where I’m going isn’t going to be any fun. So, I had my Tasmanian Devil moment yesterday.
In the process of writing this post another blogging buddy, BooMama, posted a link to a blog post by another blogging buddy, Melanie a.k.a. BigMama, over at Women All Access, and let’s just say I’m not the only one dealing with similar emotions. It was like God was speaking directly to me through Melanie’s post. I don’t find this conincidental at all but God timed and something I really needed to hear and put into practice.
So, maybe I am normal…whatever that is.