Week 22

There's someone in my head, but it's not me.

The weeks seem to be flying by. This is a good thing, of course. I wish the baby's movements were strong enough so that Jon could feel them.

The weekend was not good. I have no desire to go into details; let me just say I have given up trying to handle it by myself and am going to see a psychiatrist. Besides uncontrollable crying, I'm doing things that I simply can't imagine myself ever doing - even while doing them part of me keeps saying "what the hell is wrong with you?"

It really does feel like some stranger is stomping around in my mind, sifting through everything, and once in a while coming up with something that is complete horseshit, and declaring, "Aha! Here's something to get mad about!" and then proceeds to sit down and hector me (what is the etymology of that phrase?) for hours on end and tries to force me to do things to vindicate his ire. Hoo-boy does that sound a leetle bit nuts. I have a lot more empathy with mentally unstable people now. Not only is loss of control frightening, it is shameful and humiliating. And the collateral damage (my frickin' marriage!) is unacceptable. I have an appointment with a psychiatrist at 1. If the doc is as cool as the receptionist, I think I'll be okay.

And now for something completely different: my favorite ad during the superbowl was of course the Bud Light one where a jumpmaster throws a six-pack out the door to entice a reluctant skydiver and the pilot jumps out to chase it. *Heh.* Usually when I'm trying to get someone out the door I have a hold of him in the first place and if they're reluctant I wait for an off-balance moment then *oopsie!* I push and out we go.