My anxiety has been sky high the last few days. It’s to do with my health.
I’ve been on antibiotics for 3 weeks now. There was a notable improvement within the first few days and basically no change after that. Except for I think my symptoms have been getting worse the last few days. I’ve been over analyzing the why to death. Like I’m 12 years old and that cute boy I’m crushing on said, “Hi”, but not enthusiastically enough.
Really, there could be a lot of reasons for it. But you know the one I’m latching onto, right? The antibiotics aren’t working. They stopped working. And then what? I’m limited to this particular antibiotic because it’s safe while breastfeeding. And Ollie will not take a bottle. Many hours of sweat and tears have been spent trying to get her to take one, but she just WILL. NOT. Believe me.
So, of course, this means my symptoms are going to get worse and worse until I end up in the hospital. What we will do about Ollie?? Maybe I’ll be released, but it will still take YEARS to resolve. I’ll be one of those people. (This is where my head goes.) And the whole time I won’t know when I’ll be okay. If I’ll be okay.
That’s the worst part. The not knowing. I hate it when plans change. Let’s say I’m expecting Jason home at 5:00, but something comes up and he doesn’t get home until 6:30. I don’t handle THAT well. So you can imagine the kind of wreck that I am when there’s no real plan at all.
I’m a ball of nerves right now. My anxiety is physical, most notably in my stomach. Exactly where I don’t need ANY EXTRA drama. I can’t focus. I feel like I’m letting Ruby down because I don’t really have the capacity to listen to her right now. I started crying on the way to breakfast this morning, and she got really quiet and serious and started tearing up a little. So now I also feel guilty that she has to deal with the scariness of mom’s emotions at the same time as she’s adjusting to a new baby and no more grandma living with us.
BLAAAH. This is probably one of those posts I shouldn’t post. Ah, fuck it.