A Little Self Pity Never Hurt Anyone...

I often jinx myself.

Yesterday, when i called to reschedule the appointment with my psychiatrist (not a first date revelation), she asked me how i was doing. "Really great," I said. And i was telling the truth. I'd been on Lamictal, a mood stabilizer, for a few weeks. I thought it was doing wonders. (Even though, if you've been reading my blog, you'll beg to differ.) For the longest time, i'd had reservations about taking meds, because if i felt better, i couldn't take credit for it. But then i sank and felt so mired that i didn't care.

Anyway, today i come crashing down. Depression sets in like fog over the Northern Californian coast. Oh, wait. I've already said that.

BTW i needed to move things around because i was due for yet another sigmoidoscopy. (Also not a first date revelation.) Ooh, fun. I get to starve myself for 24 hours, on top of which i'll need to take two doses of laxatives to shit my brains out. But I weighed looniness against a bleeding, wall-shedding colon, and decided that the latter was a more pressing matter. And i really didn't want to have to take off early from work twice in the same week. It might be frowned upon. People might start to whisper. She must be really sick!

And they wouldn't have the first clue just how sick, indeed.