"KnockKnockWhosThereTrickOrTreatSex."

One of the things that ticks me off the most about Depression is that nagging feeling that "I SHOULD be happy!" Not even a wistful "I wish I WAS happy", but more of a "Shame on you, Self! You suck! How dare you not be happy?!" Does it make sense? No. But even knowing it doesn't make sense doesn't change the thoughts in my defective gray matter.

That's not QUITE true. Sometimes it DOES help to list reasons why you should be happy ("...Count your many blessings, name them one by one...") especially if I can manage to stave of the nagging doubt monster in there saying things like "yeah, but that's temporary" or "yeah, but is that fair to him?" or "they won't be your friends for forever, you know...".

*kicks doubt monster*

Happy reasons like an almost obsessively supportive mother, a nice roommate, a smart, super spiritual, hilarious brother who sometimes even writes me letters, a job that works with my schedule of doctors and insomnia and where most of the time I not only LIKE my boss but love her like... well... a SISTER, a boyfriend who calls me and makes me feel beautiful when I feel my ugliest and funny when I feel my shyest, a dad who will pay medical bills that exceed my means, sugar gliders who chirp and bark when they hear me coming and then run all over me and make me feel like a well loved jungle gym and a mommy at the same time, a job where I get to work with more animals than I could ever OWN and even see them born before my eyes, a good Bishop who knows I am trying to be closer to the Lord, a God who's plan is so full of grace that repentance and working as hard as I can CAN be enough, no matter how much that really is, an extension of my insurance plan through MyFamily.com after the lay-off to NOVEMBER not May, living in a time period with amazing science to do the medical stuff I keep finding myself in need of, a vehicle that runs the majority of the time and that has 4-wheel drive so I can occasionally go off on adventures when I get too stressed, and the feel of water around my sore body as I do water aerobics and physical therapy. Yep, a LOT. :O)

Now if I can manage to cling to those awhile this time. Hmmm...

I *do* believe that psychotherapy can help me. I know it is a good thing. I have been before. But it still means shaking fears of talking to authority types with out clamming up once I am in the office, and not being embarrassed when I cry in front of people. It is feeling weak sometimes. It is feeling out of control sometimes.

But then, so is Depression, itself, and it has no rewards.

SIGH.

I am beginning to feel like a lab rat again. Monday it was the Shrink. Wednesday, it was my new OBGYN. (And thus, the following may be TMI. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!) If there is any doctor worse than the Girlie Doc, I don't want to know about it. For me anyway. He was really nice, but looked about 12 years old. When he left the room (to have me change into one of those oh-so-special table cloth-like skirt thingies.) my mom says to me "Doogie Howser. What is he, 10?" Hee hee hee! Anyway, he seems like a good doctor anyway. But I hate going. The first thing is just to get back on birth control so I start having periods again. Not that I love that idea, but I know I need to to avoid, like, uterine cancer or whatever. And the only reason they had me go OFF the pill was because it was raising my blood pressure, but I have got that pretty much under my control with diet and exercise now. And so, yeah, I need to be having them again.

The other reasons I am going to Doogie are because I 1.) want to eliminate hormones and thyroid as the main issue with my hair loss and other annoyance issues and 2.) am going to need, like, surgery or something on my nether regions. NOT excited about that. *whimpers* But before THAT happens we are going to try some hormone stuff. And I went to the hospital to get about EVERYTHING possible tested. They took vial after vial of my blood. They better figure things out. Because if I went through all that for a "well, everything LOOKS fine..." I will scream. SIGH.

I'm not the only one getting a battery of tests in the future, though. The new dog will be going in for a ton of them on Tuesday so The Roomie can decide how to proceed (and try to find some sort of sponsor as this is going to get PRICEY). She has a name now, though. The roomie named her Suzy Sparrow. Not because she is a pirate, but because she reminds her of a lost and wounded little bird.

However, while she has scary things ahead of her, she is doing SO GOOD so far, considering. She is tolerating food well, and already seems to LIKE being petted as long as she sees your hand coming and isn't surprised! She's also gone from acting like a wild creature being attacked by something when we tried to put a collar on her to ignoring it like a regular dog. Yay! And already you can see a MAJOR change in behavior. Like when we come to the door of the bathroom where she has to stay for now, she used to tremble and pee when she saw us. But now I think she knows we are different than those people she knew before. She now looks up, instead of down sometimes. And best of all she almost wags her tail.

I still don't think Suzy has a very long life ahead of her. But what time she does have will be better than her time before us. THAT we can promise to her.

Now it is later and I need to be in bed. But I wanted to end with a few little things that have made me smile the past few days (mostly because they are very ME)...