Back before I met my husband, my best friend was a guy. One day we were going out for a hike, and as we were waiting at a stop light to get on the freeway, he told me of a song he had heard on the radio that sang about, "Why don't the pieces fit?" and how he felt that song applied to him. That moment always stuck with me because on that day, we were both in a dark spot, which is why we were going hiking. Today I am reminded of that song.
I didn't have a good day emotionally today, as Jill and Suzanne were witness to before yet another blog post met the graveyard. (Thank you ladies for your very sweet comments. I hope to have the mess cleared up soon. Thank you Jill for telling me about the comment. I went and posted a reply. I didn't realize I could do that until you said something.) As those of you who struggle with depression know, you just never know how you are going to continue handling bad news on any given day. Some days you are okay, and others it feels like the sky is falling. Today my sky was falling.
Today I felt angry. I felt let down. I felt every angry emotion in the book. I went to my shrink appointment, hoping she could help me dig my way out a little bit. Instead, I think it made me fall back into my PTSD, which is fine, because I realize I might need to take two steps back before I can move forward. I went in and tried not to shout that I didn't know why I am back here in this place. Why I didn't think it was fair. I cried. I hurt. I told her I didn't understand. I didn't give her a chance to say much, because today I needed to question everything. I just needed her to listen.
She asked me every question I have asked myself over the last few days, and I gave her all of my answers. I told her I feel like I am constantly trying to dig my way out of a cave, trying to find any little glimmer of hope that I can, but once I explore that glimmer I also have to explore the risks and complications, which push me back to where I started. How the ever living hell did I end up back here? I feel so forsaken. I don't understand, and I don't think I ever will. I am still trying to digest this, and the more real it becomes, the angrier I get.
I am so battered and beaten. I am shocked. I am hurt.
During our session I kept telling her I needed my husband there. I need him to really hear me, and I need for him to express what he feels about all of this. I love the man, but he cannot share emotion to save his life (I blame his mother 100%).
Tonight I called my husband to ask him to stop off at the pharmacy on his way home to get a prescription for our daughter's new case of pink eye (courtesy of daycare and just another spoiler to my day). He could hear by my voice I wasn't doing well. I cried and begged him to please go to the shrink with me next week. I have been asking him since I started going. He finally, finally told me he would go with me. No hesitation, just a very gentle, "Okay." I told him thank you and that I couldn't do this alone. He then told me he would only go once a week. I was shocked, I thought I'd only get a one-time deal out of it. I guess he finally understands where I am and how much I need this from him. I think he also understands that this fight is bigger than us both.
I am just hanging on for the day when I am able to start picking up the pieces and putting my life back together. I am in a holding pattern right now and will be at least until the end of this week when I have my sonohystogram, if not longer, depending on if I need the MRI. I'm not sure if I want to know the answer to the testing. I'm scared.
When will the pieces fit?