Posts filed under: ‘pcos‘




South Beach: Day 1

My dreams of starting this post with a “BFP!!!” were rudely shot down last night when I received my blood test results. This, after spending the whole day gagging from weird smells which no one else noticed. I made my co-workers eat bites of my take-out pasta to indentify the spice that was making my nose itch. All for naught. Strangely, I wasn’t sad or on the verge of tears, I was pissed off. I was livid in an “I’m an angry, irrational teenager” kind of way. I totally bit my husband’s (I’ll refer to him as “B” from now on) head off when he asked me if I wanted to watch 24 which just wasn’t fair at all. I mean, why should Jack Bauer to receive my wrath? He was stuck in a Chinese prison for 2 years.

The worst part is that all my preparations for bracing myself by going to my hokey therapist did nothing for me! I know exactly what to do when I can’t stop crying but I have no idea how to handle being so totally mad.  So far, taking it out on innocent taxi drivers seems to be serving me well but somehow it doesn’t strike me as a healthy approach.

Left up to my own devices I would have stayed on the couch all night long watching really bad sitcoms but luckily we had made plans with B’s sister and brother-in-law to celebrate the 5th anniversary of B’s Aliyah. At first I couldn’t even speak, I felt rigid and tense (my therapist teaches me how to pay attention to what my body is doing) and my throat felt closed off from making any conversation. Apparently, Latin food and a lot of Merlot was all I needed to let go. I was making jokes, laughing, and even warmed up to B, who I knew only wanted to help me by illegally burning 24. Because I always lose my appetite right before AF (aunt flow) comes, I officially began South Beach last night…if you don’t count half a bottle of Merlot.

B and I ended up watching four hours of 24 after we came home. Part of me thinks I should be dealing with my anger issues instead of zoning them out with really good TV, while the stronger part of me is pushing me to realize that cycles are called as such because there’s always a new beginning. Ok, for some reason that just made me start crying. I guess I can use my well-learned techniques now.

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1 comment January 17, 2007

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