Timing is everything.

Was just checking my Statcounter on a whim yesterday (haven't done that in a while) and noticed that I had several visits coming from ... drumroll please... Julie's great big list of blogs. Yes, now that I have stopped blogging regularly, I am now linked to one of the most frequently read blogs across the Vast Expanse of The Internets.

(Holy canoli... better think of something to say!)

Today's conundrum has to do with the panic attacks I mentioned in my last post, back again today for not one, but two rounds. I spoke with the therapist this morning, who in turn emailed the psychiatrist to talk about the possibility of prescribing me some sort of anti-anxiety med.

(Oh yeah, and you can't take those when pregnant.)

Thanks for reminding me.

G said tonight that I have to consider whether working at a place that causes me that much stress is worth it, and that it's a decision that only I can make. There are a lot of reasons to stay -- I'll be vested next February, for one, and in that time we can also probably pay off my student loan, which will make it all the more likely that when I do get pregnant, I can quit work and stay home with the baby. (I can actually think of the one following the other now, which is at least one small positive step.)

But the feelings I had this morning (and again later in the afternoon)-- heart racing, lump in my throat, terror in my mind and queasiness in the pit of my stomach -- bring out such fear in me... fear that somehow paints itself onto the canvas of my future hopes, making me wonder if I'll ever be able to hold down even the motherhood gig.

In about five weeks, I will turn 36. I'll also be one month closer to the hellish go-live at work and one month past the possibility of conceiving a baby that could be born in 2006. Unless by some miracle we get lucky this month.

With the way the past few days have gone, I think my timing is probably off.

these are the contents of my head...

Heard one of my favorite Annie Lennox songs the other morning ("Why"). The line in the title sums up the other big reason why I edit and delete my blog posts and generally fret over what I say and how I say it -- I am scared of what people will think of the thoughts that I put out there.

Now, the original reason that I started blogging wasn't about telling people who read about me interesting stories, but as I enjoy writing *anyway*, and as I met more of you who may still be reading, it became a different kind of outlet. A community, where I could feel at home with the thoughts I was having (jealous of pregnant women? check. sad over my losses? check. scared of trying again? triple check.)

But in all of that, I forgot my original purpose. It was to get these thoughts that were driving me somewhat crazy at times out of my head so that maybe I could deal with them. While it's true that I never intended this blog to be all about my emotional well-being, I know that if I don't get these things out I may really have problems.

I'm not dealing well with life right now, at all. I could complain about my job until the cows come home, but since I can't gather the energy needed to find another one, my options are to put up with it (like all my coworkers, who are in the same sad stressful boat that I am) or leave. I can't leave. So I have to learn to cope with it.

Coping's not my strong suit right now. My therapist and I have been working on my self-esteem and my stress but hey, yesterday and today out of the blue a panic attack decided to sneak its way back into my head, over all the stress we're under here. I couldn't stop it even though I knew that "theoretically, I can just ride through this, breathe deeply, and move on." The Zoloft which seemed like such a wonder the other day (in that it's controlling my depression very well) is apparently maxed out on what it can do for the anxiety disorder that's probably the root cause of the depression, anyway. The only reason I've ever been depressed aside from the miscarriage has always had to do with my perceived inability to live up to someone else's standards, whether they're unreasonable or not.

I have an appointment with the psychiatrist on the 14th; I hate having to go back to her and saying "we need to increase/switch/add medication(s) because this isn't working." I know that it's healthier to just suck up and do it, but I hate feeling like a failure. *Not* dealing with it, though, would have serious negative side effects.

In all of this you'd think I'd be totally and completely miserable, but I'm not; I'm still interested in Lost, "trying again" with G, and making plans for vacation in May. I think this is how I came to realize that the depression isn't my primary problem; it's a symptom of the anxiety fueled by the ADD-like tendencies that cause me to feel like a failure or under too much stress to begin with. If I were just depressed, I know I couldn't enjoy much of anything. Sometimes it seems like one second I'll be crying or irritated or stressed out or panicky, and the next someone will say something funny and I crack up.

It's odd to feel so normal and so abnormal at the same time.

better living through chemistry

"the future's so bright, I gotta wear shades"

Yeah, I think I know why the blogging's been so difficult lately. It's not that I don't have things on my mind. It's more that my emotions aren't getting the best of me, the way they used to.

Before the Zoloft.

Overall, I am basically an emotionally semi-well-balanced person right now, something I'm really not used to at all. And when writing my innermost thoughts, "semi-well-balanced" doesn't exactly cause the same type of outflow that "unstable and depressed" did.

That's not to say I'm not still emotional at times. I cried when I didn't get that job I interviewed for a few weeks ago. I mutter to myself "I hate where my life is right now" when I go from home to hellish job and back, day in and day out.

But I'm not emotional about the thing that had normally kept me in tears all last year. I think to myself "maybe a positive test for Easter," since we didn't get one for Valentine's or St. Patrick's days -- no crying upon the first sign of spotting, no anger at the possible implantation cramps that weren't a month or so ago. I do try not to think about the next holidays on the calendar, as they correspond with the dates that I learned about (Memorial Day) and lost (Independence Day) my last pregnancy. (Ironic choice of holidays, those.)

I am more distracted now than I've been in a while, too; that could definitely be a factor. I'm finding it harder to stay focused on one thing because there are literally eighteen things going on at work during the day, and I'm supposed to be keeping track of about sixteen of those. Given my problems with organization, my tendency towards anxiety disorders and my generally poor self-esteem, I'm suprised that I'm doing as well as I am.

I've re-written the end of this post twice now. I think I'm tired; my words aren't coming out right. So I'll close now, and hopefully will be more awake (and/or less distracted) another day.

(Time to call a refill in, perhaps.)

briefly...

Well, sorry for posting and leaving like that. Work has been crazy, and with a go-live date approaching like a speeding train with no brakes, I anticipate it's only going to get crazier.

I have had no time to check in with any of you, either, and that makes me sad.

I hope all's well with everyone. I have some blog posts brewing, but no time to post them this morning. Hopefully later today or tomorrow.

would I lie to you?

Would I lie to you honey,
Why would I say somethin' that wasn't true
I'm askin' you sugar would I lie-i-i-i-i-ie to you?

So yeah, I wasn't going to post anymore. The plain and simple truth was that taking a break seemed like the right thing to do.

Then it wasn't.

Then, I couldn't find the words to say what I wanted to say.

But today, after reading some of your comments on my last post, I decided that instead of trying to make it pretty, I would just write, and see what comes out.

First... the melanoma has been removed, and talking to G that night calmed me down immensely. It touched him that it upset me so much, and we talked a lot about it. Basically, he will just need to get checked every six months and wear SPF 30 or higher. This we can handle.

I've had two meetings with the woman I mentioned in my post back in January. She pretty much ignored me the whole time, although I stressed over my presentations in advance both times.

Work generally is starting to suck more and more life out of me. I haven't heard yet about the job interview that I had, although since it would be an internal transfer there's a good chance that they wouldn't let me go until after a huge deployment that we're planning, in June. So I am pretty much stuck here until then, unless I get so fed up that I up and quit.

The hematologist that I have seen twice now sent me to a "clotting expert" at another facility for a consult. Well, that was a disaster. She told me in no uncertain terms that MTHFR poses NO RISK TO ME WHATSOEVER because my homocysteine is
normal. She said that I didn't need to be on a higher dose of folic acid; I didn't need to take B6 and B12 even though several things I've seen mention that it's needed to process the folic acid, and the worst part: that "you have the clearest case of what caused your miscarriages of anyone I've ever seen" (by this she means the septum). In other words, "why are you here wasting my valuable time??"

Now, I'm not an unreasonable person, and can see the point that perhaps the inconclusive data on this subject is worth some skepticism (I certainly don't WANT to shoot myself with heparin every day if I don't have to), but frankly, what bothered me the most was her bedside manner -- she was critical, arrogant and demeaning, and I ended up getting a) very mad during the appointment but also b) very upset. (I ended up crying... damn emotions...) I should have walked out and now I wish I had.

So the truth is that there is plenty of reason to keep writing; I was probably being a little lazy. When conflict and difficult emotions start to weigh on my mind, my favorite answer is to run. Panic attacks over dealing with a bad boss? Get a new job. Not getting anywhere with therapy? Quit and decide that "the meds are helping, anyway."

I just never expected that I'd feel that way about blogging.

So bear with me, please, as I try to figure out which way is up. And realize that the plain and simple truth is rarely plain and never simple.