Staycation. Its meaning is simple; a short getaway near one’s home. After hubby’s medical procedure, his time off work was getting to both of us. We were bored and were going stir-crazy. By Thursday afternoon I felt like I was ready to pull my hair out. After dinner that night I became stressed from a lot of overthinking, perhaps, and told hubby things that I haven’t explained to him. This “oversharing” and telling him my feelings and what’s on my mind are making our relationship stronger. I’m still working to gain his trust; I don’t expect it to happen overnight.
The loss of trust because I fucked up. Halfway.
Therapy is going well but is getting rather expensive due to not being covered by insurance. I am getting to the root of my problems. In early November I was ready to stop going to my sessions because it became too painful. Discussing very private topics, with a man, no less, can be embarrassing. But I see my therapist as helping me very much and I plan to continue to go to my sessions. During the last session I had last week, I mentioned that I was depressed. A few weeks before that I was feeling on top of the world. My therapist suggested I call my psychiatric nurse practitioner to see if my medications can be changed before my appointment, which is on Friday. I was told nothing could be done and that if I had an emergency to go to the hospital. My therapist and I are disappointed this route was taken.
How do I know I’m in a very low place right now? I don’t have any motivation. I don’t feel like doing anything that I usually enjoy. I don’t feel like talking to people. I, however, managed to do the dishes and I made a spaghetti dinner.