I have the recap of the world's best bachelorette party. I have the most gorgeous invitations to tell you all about. I have so many exciting wedding details to update!
But I can't seem to get the words to flow, the paragraphs to match my enthusiasm for all the spectacular things happening, because over it all (prepare for over dramatic statement) my world seems to be crumbling down around me.
Yeah, it's going to be THAT kind of post.
So, if you're not feeling melodramatic today, go read something more cheerful like this post.
If you're ready to join me in the pity party...proceed!
This all began a few months ago, when for some reason my body decided that it was going to completely reject the medication I had been switched to and it started panicking.
This meant I became an emotional trainwreck, with paralyzing anxiety.
Now, generally I'm a hypochondriac but this time it was to the point where I was entirely sure I was going to die and couldn't even bring myself to make an appointment for the doctors because I knew that they would tell me I had merely weeks to live, and I would never see my wedding day or my kids holding one of those stupid chalk board first day of school things and I would never get to use all that damn money in my 401K and I would have been saving all of it for nothing.
So instead of calling, I spent my nights lying awake planning my bucket list and my super-awesome party-not funeral.
I've been suffering from depression the majority of my life, but I usually tend to keep the anxiety under control. This was a whole new level for me, and I had no idea how to cope with it.
I couldn't get out of bed, I couldn't sleep. I focused on things to the point that I was convinced I was a lunatic, and the best thing for everyone is if I just pulled an Irish goodbye and never came back.
And, since I was dying, what did it matter?
I didn't know what was going to be worse, finding out that it was something life threatening, or finding out it wasn't and confirming that I was, in fact, out of my mind.
We found out the issue was not going to kill me, and was easily treatable and as she delivered the news, my eyes filled up with tears and I looked over at Eric, fully expecting him to exit in this sort of fashion:
Like, ok BAI crazy lady. I'm not dealing with this anymore!
But of course, he's an angel, and he just seemed really excited that I wasn't going to die.
After my complete breakdown in the doctor's office, we decided we should probs deal with my little anxiety problem.
Just thought at this point you needed a cute puppy GIF. You're WELCOME.
Anyhow, so we changed my medicine and slowly I started feeling less like the world was ending.
But, lucky for me, that came with 14 pounds of weight.
Yeah. FOURTEEN. POUNDS.
If nothing else in this world, I've been blessed with Eric, great friends, and the luxury of a fast metabolism shared between me and my brother.
Once in high school I gained a bunch of weight, but it went right back off and I've been lucky to remain approximately the same size for the past eight years or so.
Until I guess, I decided to get married and the universe thought, "HEY! THIS WOULD BE A GREAT TIME FOR YOU TO GAIN A BUNCH OF WEIGHT AND LOSE ALL YOUR SELF CONFIDENCE!"
So after realizing I now couldn't fit into my wedding dresses or any of my clothes, my confidence had never been lower.
All of this was a great starting point for the worst month of bad news.
I started a new job, Eric lost his job and then got hired on in Nashville (he's moving away), a close family member found out they had cancer, and my mom had a relapse.
It's a whole lot of crappy news in a short amount of time.
Every day is a constant effort to convince myself that it's worth moving forward. To get up, and face whatever ridiculous things the world has in store that day.
And sometimes it feels overwhelming to try and explain how I'm feeling because everyone is going through something difficult, and at times it seems completely selfish to bring your problems up when in the grand scheme of things they really aren't that bad.
The past month has been an exercise in perspective. And a reminder of what I have always said...I've seen worse days, I've seen better.
There will always be bad days. There will be bad months, and bad years, and sometimes it will seem like your whole life is one big joke being played on you.
But there will be so, so many good days. Days where your friends ride around Nashville with you and you feel like a queen and days when your fiance makes you laugh so hard you cry and you're just sitting at home binge watching Netflix.
Those good days are so worth these bad ones. And so I guess this whole thing is to point out that the good days weigh so much more than the bad ones, in the end.
Thanks for everyone who has supported me over the past few months during this craziness. Much love, always.
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