I couldn't stop crying on Sunday.
It was so weird-- wasn't I just saying that the week before I felt 'dead inside'? Yet there I was, sobbing because I couldn't find anything to wear that didn't make me feel fat and suffering acute bouts of anxiety over teaching the Young Women's lesson. I locked the bedroom door and huddled on the closet floor hiccuping a prayer that said basically, "I can't" and "please".
But we made it to church. And I survived the lesson. J joked that my teary eyes gave the impression that I was having a very spiritual day. Nope. Just your average mental breakdown, thank-you-very-much.
I'm doing better now. I'm back on the half dose, spending lots of time in the sun, and getting some physical activity. But it's awkward to have to deal with this added layer of instability. I'm irritable. And easily angered. And sensitive to sounds. And so dang teary.
The very definition of pregnancy, right? :)
Just 15 weeks to go. Not that I'm counting or anything.