(provocative title, no? Don't worry Mom, I'm not blogging about sex...)
I'm talking about sanity. Maybe I'd be better off talking about sex. ::shrugs:: It's been a month since I went to the doctor and was diagnosed with PPD. A month of medication and waiting and hoping for a change but still, nothing. I'm still having massive anxiety attacks - moments when I feel like I've totally lost it. I read about Layla and I start to hyperventilate, imagining what her parents must be going through right now. I hear about an Amber Alert and I envision losing Addison. I watch her playing in the tub and I realize that if something happened to her, I would give up. I would absolutely lose my will to live. It's like my sympathy setting is stuck in overdrive... I imagine the worst every day and it makes me feel like my heart is breaking into a million pieces over and over again. Addison coughs and I think it's pneumonia. She gets constipated and I think it's an obstructed bowel. I'm a freaking hypochondriac for my daughter. <--- This mess is what's going on in my head every day but instead of curling up on the floor I get up, get dressed, love on my daughter, kiss my husband goodbye, go to work, and put on my 'happy face' for my coworkers and students because that's the only thing I can do. So for now, I guess I just keep faking it. Somethings gotta give, right? Either I'll get it sorted out or I'll lock myself in the bathroom for all eternity.
I go back to the doctor on Monday. We have much to discuss.