I went to a shrink. I actually went...and I hated it!! I hated it, but I'm going back.
Here's the breakdown: She says I'm depressed.
My secret response: No shit, Sherlock.
My husband accompanied me on this particular journey and he was very helpful. It turns out that I don't like talking face-to-face with strangers about personal situations. As you can probably guess, I cried. I cried a lot!!
She didn't talk as much as I thought she would, which was odd. I don't know how you fill an hour with the delicate verbal dance of, "how does that make you feel?"
We laughed at her and me when it was all over, but then... I don't know.
She said people never feel better after the first session and boy was she right. I could barely get through work. The next day? I sobbed before work. Sobbed.
The drive to the office didn't help to calm my emotions. So I called the shrink and made another appointment.
I don't really know how that will help. I'm in a strange place. I needed help to continue to fail at trying to conceive and now I need help with the tragedy of it all. A margarita is nicer, stronger and cheaper. Of course I think the overindulgence of it causes more wrinkles and weight gain. I'm good at weight gain.