flavors!

There's two kindsa crazy, yo*; there's the "I can kinda dig this shiz" brand, and the "Wooooaaah.  Slow it down, there, Nelly," variety.

I think we both know which kind I am right now.

And I think we both know why you aren't sitting in my lap, petting my hair, and feeding me chocolate-flavored-whiskey as a result.

p.s. With all of the appointments I suddenly have scheduled to see both my therapist and my psychiatrist, you'd think I was a) popular and b) rich.  Turns out, I'm *not* Cindy McCain; rather, my husband called and reported that I was, uh, unwell.  Somehow, this alarmed them enough to see me now, rather than in the middle of November.  Cancellations all over the place!  Blowing up like my teenaged-neighbor's celly, yo!

It's so funny.  It's so funny that, once my husband informed them that I might seriously wish to kill myself, they're ALL. ABOUT. ME.

Why not before, though?  When I made all those calls to get appointments?  And even went to some of them (the ones I remembered)?  Why not then?  Why didn't they see it then?

I guess I do an adequate job of covering up the crazy?

(Well, not if you read me on twitter this evening.  But -- never mind that.  Sigh.  I blame the box o' wine.

Okay, and maybe also the crazy.)

*I will allow that, in fact, there may be more than two varieties of crazy.  But, for the above argument, it worked nicely.  Let's just leave it there for now, shall we?  Thank you.  YOU are divine.  And lovely.  And deserving of chocolate-flavored-whiskey.  I'll be sure to feed you some just as soon as I get back in the saddle.

Comments

[Melanie]

Here if you need me, miss lady.

[flutter]

You need a hug, lucky for you I happen to be phenomenal in that area

[iMommy]

I finally starting seeing a therapist for my "postpartum depression".... my daughter is over two years old now. I called four different offices and left messages, and no one ever called me back. So you can see why it took that long to get the courage to try calling again.

Good luck hun, and I hope that you're feeling better real soon. We're all here if you need us -- comments or email.

[Gwen]

You really *are* sick if you're asking for chocolate flavored whiskey, b/c that shit ain't right.

It is amazing how they all jump to attention when the *s* word is mentioned. I know. I've been there. And quite frankly, it saved my life. I hope it does the same for you.

[magpie]

Chocolate with whiskey on the side please.

Hope things get better, and by things, I mean you.

[Mignon]

I think you're popular. In fact, if I were asked, I would say, "She's. SO! Pop. U. Lar."

Take care of yourself, Deb. And hug that little buggy of yours for me. I've had a yen lately, to do that.

[anne nahm]

Hang in there.

[Kyla]

I'd feed you chocolate-flavored-whiskey anytime, babe.

[Kathi D]

Tell them to FIX YOU UP. Whatever that means. If it takes some good drugs, don't just say no.

[Kristin]

Ask for drugs and wash them down with the whiskey... maybe stick a pill in the chocolate?

Bad idea? I think not.

I'm sorry you're struggling (my god, what a jackass p.c. term)... make it back and grab on to those who will hold you steady.