So Eric changed my ass wound dressing the other morning, just like always, and I don't know what my deal was that day, but I started crying. You'd think after so much time has passed I'd be used to just dealing with everything, but I don't know. It got to me that day. It wasn't one thought or anything, it was everything. Sometimes I feel so sad that we're all dealing with this again.
And to think, I was considering dropping back down on my prozac.
I did the old Fake It Until You Make It, and when that didn't work, I went for a run. When I'm running, I feel like I'm doing something positive, so I guess it's good that I started running last September.
I thought about a lot of things that day. It was a nice day to lay on a picnic table bench and stare at the clouds and the birds. It was a nice day to swing in one of those bench swings and watch the bumblebees. I didn't want to go anywhere that day, but I'm glad I did.
Eric's and my first date, the first time we kissed, was on March 20th. Twelve years ago. I hope and wish that we get another twelve more.
I plan to keep as busy as possible on Tuesday. I think chemo this Wednesday is, for some reason, getting to me even more than the very first one. I don't know why that is. Maybe reality has set in. I'm not liking some of my reality.
Sigh. Trying to stay positive is hard work.