The past week or so hasn't been so good for me. I've made a list:
1. Tim was away at a physics immersion course in preparation for his upcoming board exam (I've lost count - this is maybe #4 of 8 exams?)
2. I seriously got my ass handed to me at work (see below) with 3 ER shifts in one week. Lots of really sick animals.
3. I am too preoccupied with self-pity for a variety of pathetic "reasons".
4. The events in #3 prompted me to call the "infertility specialist" and make an appointment - it's on August 18th. That's 3 days before my 36th birthday.
Whenever someone shares that they have an appointment or this or that plan I think that they must be so relieved to just be moving forward. Here I am - moving forward - I have been moody, irritable, and depressed ever since I made the appointment. Somehow in my mind it isn't a beacon of hope. It's more of a black hole.
I'm normally pretty good at pulling myself out of a funk. This time? I can't seem to find the trail of breadcrumbs that always has led me out of the funk forest before. No, this one just has plopped on me like a wet blanket that refuses to move. I notice that I am isolating myself (no phone calls, no email replies, not posting) and that isn't going to be helpful. But I feel so bitchy now I can't imagine who would want to be around me - I pity Tim for having to live in the same house with me right now. I can't stand myself at the moment.