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Wednesday, September 3, 2008

Annual Self-Psychoanalysis

Greetings, Chilled Glasses of White Zin from a Box!

That's been my top drug lately, unless you consider caffeine a drug, which of course it isn't - for how on earth could a multi-bazillion dollar mainstream company like Starbucks get so rich off a freakin' drug. Drugs are for losers, not upper middle class consumers!

Anyway, it's time for my annual mental health check. I never used to pause to gauge my own normality, but don't you think it's something we all should do from time to time, especially after traumatic events like burning your crustless quiche in the oven during a fancy dinner party, or getting KuKd? Who needs BOGS to tell us if we're sane; I think most of us already have a solid general understanding of what's normal. Like, gnawing one's own hand: abnormal. Drinking one's dog's pee: abnormal. Doing a hundred jumping jacks at every rest stop during road trips: normal - it's an old road-trip-survival trick of mine.

So here I go, and I'll try to be brief.

Cancer-noia (soon to be a KuKd Word of the Week, so stay tuned): Getting better, but still needs work. No longer convinced that I have a burgeoning tumor behind my left eyeball, or that my right boob seems suspiciously larger than my left one in a cancerish way. Still have mysterious, chronic pelvic pain, but have stopped obsessively reading excerpts from Gilder Radner's ovarian cancer diaries online, or looking up Pevic Pain on WebMD to find out what kind of cancers it could be. Continued fear of plastics, preservatives, processed foods, chemical lathering agents in soaps, and other carcinogens. Sometimes feel trapped by carcinogens, as if they're following me around, seeping into my body and dooming me (or worse, Kevin) to cancer of some sort. Sometimes want to go live on the moon, where it's probably safe. But not to the point of buying a space suit (yet).

Irrational Death-anoia: Dull fear of death and dying persists, but major anxiety attacks subsiding. Had a brief crying fit in our very Soviet hotel room in Latvia, because it dawned on me once again that Kevin or I could die at any minute. This made me not just sad, but absolutely terrified. For without Kevin, I don't know if I could survive. And without myself, I definitely know I wouldn't survive. I might even be in Hell, for having used some combination of the F-word, "Jesus," and "dead baby" in the same sentence more than once in my life. And you know what Kevin did as I heaved wretched sobs? He chuckled, and suggested we go get some pork-kebabs and 12-percent alcohol beer. So we did, and I felt better. But the fear is still there. Will keep an eye on it.

General Stress Level: Still over-scheduling myself, afraid of saying "no" to anyone, avoiding confrontation, occasionally resentful of the pods of stroller-pushing mommies at Greenlake, where I like to go jogging. Wish they'd go away - maybe find their own lake. Working on all of these issues; recently started drinking green tea and doing more jumping jacks, this time in the living room, to relieve stress.

Reaction to Similac and Motherhood Maternity Ads Still Arriving in the Mail: Fine - I use them as toilet paper.

Reaction to Dead Baby Jokes Excellent - bring 'em on.

Reaction to Actual Dead Babies - Fine, I would imagine - although I haven't actually encountered one since my own. It's not like I see dead babies all the time, littering the streets of north Seattle.

Ability to Be Around Babies and Baby-Having Friends - Abnormal, and needs work. This is a particularly sore spot for me right now, for just recently it hit me that I still feel really pouty and sorry for myself, entitled to a permanent carte-blanche to skip events where I might encounter happy mommies and babies, and that everyone might be getting rightfully sick of this crappy attitude. It's like, I've been so obsessed with preserving my own fragile happiness that I've forgotten how to be appreciative and supportive of my friends with babies, and their actual babies. It's been a year, dude. I need to get up, get over it, get on. Show some love to my friends who have given MORE than enough. Will keep working on this issue, sniff sniff.

That's all for now - I'd give myself a 6 or 7 on a scale of ten, depending on the day.

Coming soon - the KuKd Word of the Week #2!


Katie said...

Yaaay I loved it :) I had a realization today that babies don't make me sad, just pregnant women. Of course I was just getting used to the thought of being preggers when I lost my baby and you were getting used to the fact that you were going to have a baby when you lost yours, so may be that is why I don't have too hard of a time with babies?? IDK. I will be venturing that feeling on my next blog post. Stay tuned :)

And I absolutely positively could not have survived without my husband through all of this either. Those boys are pretty useful once in a while, not just for shackin up ;)

Sorry you have been feeling blue, I hope you are starting to feel a little bit better!! And I don't think you can ever "get up, get over" this, so don't push it. I know it's hard, because I am trying to be cool with pregger friends... It's a hard hard stupid journey we were chosen for! WTF??

sharonvw said...

Mon, I used to have the cancer fear as well! But then one day I realized that something was going to get me in the end and there was no point obsessing about what that something could be. That and perhaps the fact that I had a full cancer screening done about a year ago when I was inexplicabley ill.
Hang in there!
Self Preservation is a GOOD thing so don't beat yourself up about it.

janis said...

hey, I'm glad you at least passed! Not with flying colors, nope, but you made it... ;-)
I had death-onoia big time... maybe I still do.
Other than being mentally screwed in every direction, my physical health had taken a beating too, but I'll spare you the details.