Half Way

I passed a few milestones during the last month. Had my birthday in October. Six months of marriage in November. And six months of my husband being away, which comes with some sadness, but also some hope because we've passed the half-way mark now.

At work, I packed up my office the day before a long weekend for my birthday, and when I returned the following Monday, my department had moved temporarily into what used to be a meeting room. I no longer have my own desk, my own computer, or my own phone line.

Within a couple days after that, my old office was demolished. Carpet pulled up, ceiling tiles removed, walls knocked down. It literally doesn't exist anymore. Symbolic, really. We can never go back to the way things used to be.

I miss Joe. I think about him every day. I worry and don't sleep well when he's on a mission. Not that I'm sleeping well to begin with - I'm not. My job is so stressful right now. I have all kinds of anxiety about it, and it keeps me up at night. If I have a particularly frustrating day that coincides with Joe being on a mission, I just don't sleep that night. Sometimes it's a few nights in a row.

I'm pretty sure I'm depressed now. I stayed in denial until I noticed one day that I felt down for no good reason. I just plain didn't feel good. Things that usually made me happy didn't help me feel better. My whole body felt slow and drained of energy. I didn't want to go anywhere or do anything. I actually felt scared of going out where people might see me.

When I thought about it I realized this had been going on for weeks already. I just hadn't acknowledged it yet.

Then the brain fog set in. Probably related to the lack of sleep. I just couldn't think clearly, and I really didn't care to try.

Naturally, being the procrastinator that I am, I haven't done anything about this yet. But I know I need to. I never did get in touch with the psychiatrist, and now I'm at the point where I think it might be too late for psychotherapy. Not that it wouldn't help, but that I should've started it months ago if I wanted to stop it from getting this far. Now I'm positive that no matter who I see - a psychiatrist, a counselor, or my regular doctor - they'll want to put me on medication, and probably for the next 2-3 years.

Joe and I want to start a family as soon as he gets home. I don't want to be a med-zombie when he gets home, and I don't want to be on drugs when I'm pregnant. I keep thinking maybe I can just make it through the next 6 months without treatment and then I'll get better when things get back to normal. Maybe I'll even find a new job by then.

I'm not completely without hope, but it's a daily struggle. I know that Joe is struggling just as much as I am, and strangely that gives me comfort because I know we're in this together.

There are some positives coming up that I'm looking forward to. New Moon opens next weekend. I'm spending Thanksgiving at my mom's. And the company christmas party is in less than a month. I picked out a dress yesterday and I'm trying to decide if I should get my hair done, or do it myself. Fun stuff.

One day at a time.