Being happy doesn’t seem to come naturally to me. I have to work a lot harder to maintain a positive attitude. The exact opposite of my husband. Dr. N actually asked me today if I was upset that Hubby didn’t seem to share my grief. Uh, no. He’s allowed to grieve in his own way. Which seems to be by looking to the future. I’m more upset at myself for my own continued sadness.
I’m trying (and, until therapy today, I thought I was succeeding) to allow myself to be in a better mood the past couple of days. I was starting to take care of myself, eating better, and even did yoga yesterday. I started out my therapy session by saying I was feeling okay, at times, and how good it felt to let myself do that. Then things took a turn. I’m not even sure how, but I ended the session crying. Again. I came home and asked Hubby if it was a bad sign that I felt worse after therapy. We’ll see what the next week brings.
On a good day, I need fewer distractions. On a good day, I still cry, or at least blink back tears, when I hear certain songs on the radio or think too fondly of the Little-Embryos-that-Couldn’t. Wouldn’t. Would never be.
Nevertheless, I am making an attempt to focus on the positive. Here’s proof:
I talked to my sister on the phone for an hour and half yesterday, and it wasn’t all about me. Thank goodness.
Yoga! Seriously, it had been for.ev.er. since I’d done yoga, and it was amazing.
I went ahead and made an appointment for a hair cut. Haven’t decided yet how drastic I’ll go, but I’m looking forward to a little pampering.
Hubby has heard me laughing out loud before bed, where I lie reading the newest book he bought for me, Mindy Kaling’s Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me?
I have a dinner date on Monday. Very exciting. I may even write about it here.
Last, but certainly not least, you guys are awesome. Even I get sick of hearing my own whining, but you never bitch and moan about my bitching and moaning. So thanks.