I spent most of my time in bed. I was emotionally exhausted. This was depression. My old friend had stopped by for a visit because I am worried about my physical health (which we are currently testing).
I did what I was supposed to do: I tried to get in to see my therapist, but she had no cancellations. She did, however, call me twice and check on how I was doing, offering suggestions and telling me to “hang in there.” I talked to my mom, or at least listened to her chat while yawning. I watched a movie with my boyfriend. I went out to eat. I forced myself to get out of the house even though all I really wanted was my bed. One day it was just to the drive thru and to return a DVD to Redbox – but it was out. It forced me to put on some jeans and a bra. Fuck makeup. Fuck my hair. At least I started the car.
Yesterday on Facebook I asked for prayers of health, strength and grace and the love that poured in was amazing. I feel better today – not Rockstar – but better. Maybe it is because the ultrasound I was so worked up about was yesterday. Maybe it was because I saw a friend yesterday. But more than likely, it has a lot to do with knowing that people out there care, and by meeting people through “This is My Brave”, I know that a lot of them “get it.”
I see my doctor two Thursday’s from now, but plan on calling her Tuesday to see if she has the results back from the radiologist. I just want to be okay. I want to stop worrying. And if I am not okay, I want to be able to fix what is broken.
Thank you, dear reader, for your support. It means the world to me.
Image courtesy of David Castillo Dominici / FreeDigitalPhotos.net