…and on my wife‘s chest.
Being on hormonal birth control makes it a lot easier to cry. So easy that I can burst into tears, cry hard for thirty seconds or less . . . then just stop and go on almost like it didn’t happen. Almost. Except that lately I’ve been putting a lot of my mid-life crisis together and identifying (and putting words to) really basic fundamental emotional needs and losses and fears and bullshit, so on days like today the extra hormones help highlight where my biggest sadnesses are in a way that 1) I can’t ignore them, and 2) separates them from stuff that might just be noise.
Really glad @DeliaTS accompanied me to that first (& last) appointment with new psychiatrist. So unhappy over exposing myself to them.
— Trixie Fontaine (@tastytrixie) August 26, 2014
The good news is I’M TOTALLY HUMAN!
And I’ve got my wife . . . and her chest to cry on. And she just cut up some peaches for us to eat in bed, so goodnight.
I recognize that I am lucky to have most of the problems I’ve got. Seriously. You’d be blessed to have many of my problems.
It’s one of the few grey days we’ve had so far this summer . . . but one of the best days I’ve had so far in terms of brain function and motivation and bright ideas and productivity.
The weather and my better brain function are unrelated . . . unless you count that I woke up feeling fantastic and then got progressively more depressed as the greyness of the day and evening wore on.
And now it’s dark and I feel like crying so . . . yay mood swings!
But wait, 90 seconds later I totally don’t feel like crying anymore – awesome!!
I’m so fucking confused . . .
After happily working almost twelve hours and approaching midnight, I didn’t have anything naked or sexy to show for it. But why work *almost* twelve hours, when you can work a WHOLE twelve hours? With creamy cherries on top?!?
Happy pink midnight, friends.