Confession time. I'm not putting this here to freak anyone out - I just need to tell it. I need it to leave me. And I don't think I can actually bring myself to say it out loud to anyone. Especially not in person where they can see me and I can see their reaction. Here goes.
Today, as I exited the interstate, just for a second, I considered not steering. I considered what would happen if I didn't. If I just crashed. On purpose. Into cement barricades that were left on the shoulder of the ramp for some construction going on. I considered really, how bad would it be? I considered that I wouldn't have to worry about the guilt of leaving my family - I wouldn't be around to know. But then, happily in this case, I also considered what that would really mean for my children. How they wouldn't understand. How they would grow up thinking that Mommy didn't love them enough to stick around. Funny, I never considered any pain that might be involved, and to be honest, I didn't much consider how Steve would be affected. I think on some level, I kind of believe there would be a little relief for him. I'm sure I'm not exactly the most fun person to be around these days. Our tiff this morning and the small bickering flare-ups over the last few weeks would be some evidence of that.
So in a way, I think my brief consideration of options and outcomes this morning was a good thing. It scared me. And you know, I know those are not the kind of thoughts I should be having on my way to work in the morning. Okay, maybe on a Monday, but, hey, there are better ways to get out of working - calling in sick may not be permanent, but it does get you out of work for a day or two. My doctor's office opens at 9:00. I called at 9:01. Amazingly (or not, God and I did have quite the one-sided conversation this morning after that), they have an appointment tomorrow. I will be discussing my level of prescripted help at 10:00 tomorrow morning. I will be asking if perhaps we can consider the possibility that a stronger dose might be of some assistance to me. In other words, I will do all I can to resist begging him to give me more drugs in the desperate hope that I can go back to feeling "normal." And by normal, I mean fighting with my husband, yelling at my kids, getting cranky when I am hungry, but managing to drive to work while keeping the van and myself in one piece.
So now, today, I sit here at work in my new cube in my new department in my new job (all of which I love, love, LOVE), and I am faking it. Every time someone stops by or calls or I have to go to a meeting, I am all smiles and happiness and laughing with the world. And then as soon as I am by myself again, I struggle not to just put my head down on my desk and let it all out. Back when I was normal, sometimes, a good cry would make me feel better. Yes, it's weird, but I think it's a girl thing. I realized today that a good cry would leave me feeling exactly the way I feel right now. So really, why bother?
Seriously, I think men need to give women a little more credit about this whole faking it thing. It is done to preserve their ego, after all, and it is not as easy as it seems! It's hard and it's exhausting to make other people think everything is just hunky dory. Politicians must be tired all the time!