4:13 p.m. - 2006-04-17
Mental Patient
I'm not having a good day.
I don't know what set me off... and I'm feeling much better now (thank you, Coke and box of Easter chocolates from the in-laws)... but I have been having a wicked freak-out kind of day. The kind of day where my door is closed, and I'm soaking tissue after tissue with tears (and yes, snot), blubbering to my bewildered mom on the phone, and reapplying mascara endlessly.
My overriding thought of the afternoon has been: what am I doing? Who the hell do I think I am, and why did I ever think I would be a good parent? I'm completely thrown by the prospect of being a mother, of being so utterly responsible for another living thing (aside from a plant, which I can't seem to make work, and 2 cats, which, so far, is going ok). Why did I ever think this would be a good idea? And who, exactly, is going to pay for all this?
I think... at least, I hope to God... that every woman in my position has felt this way at some point. People tend to gloss over this aspect of parenthood, but it's feeling very real for me, at least today. Aside from the realization of these feelings, I'm also feeling very much like a monster for thinking this way. Was I not the one who blogged so passionately just a few months ago about the desperation of infertility? What right do I have to complain about this -- isn't this what I wanted? (My next overriding thought was, "Thank God I'm still on the Prozac." I would have had to have been talked off the ledge if I weren't medicated.)
I realize that I have the crazy hormones to thank for most of this -- but it's hard to keep that in mind when you're in the throes of your own mental chaos. That's why I'm so thankful there are at least three pieces of dark chocolate-covered toffee in this here box.
