I'm the kind of girl who always has a plan.
I've learned over the years that "the best laid plans....blah blah, blows up in your face" so
I usually don't sweat the small stuff. Having a baby is good for that.
The first time I had to completely change my plans at the last minute because
my baby (fill in the blank, it has all happened: had a terrible attack of diarrhea, got a 104* fever, was up all night, etc) it really threw me. But then I learned to roll with it.
Anyway, I digress. The point is, I don't sweat the small stuff. However, I have always, always had an overarching long term plan. A goal. Something to work toward.
I am one of those lucky people who fell in love with my major in college and fell in love with my job. I have ALWAYS loved my job. In fact, sometimes I am surprised that I actually get paid for what I (used to) do. Then we moved for my husband's job. I left a job that I loved, but a town that I didn't, so I was not too heartbroken.
Unfortunately, the economy reared its ugly head, so in this town I cannot get a job in my field to save my life.
So in addition to all of my menopausal craziness, I have been banging my head up against a wall trying to make career inroads, trying different angles, networking. All to no avail. I even temped for a job that was related to my field, but didn't really like it.
So here I am at midlife. Twenty years experience and a Master's degree and I have squat.
All of my prospects are at a dead end. So I mourn and gnash my teeth and become depressed and it gets mixed up with all of the hormones and I become this wreck of a person.
And I have sat with this situation for three years....not really knowing what do to.
In many ways I am lucky: my husband makes good money, so I am not stressed out trying to support a family.
But, now what?
And that is the question: What the hell do I do now?
Really, get healthy is number one. I still am trying to get my med/hormones down correctly (stay tuned for "Interesting and Scary Side Effects"... a must read!)
But what about my overarching goal of "Where Will My Life Go Next Now That My Career Is In the Toilet?"
I was doing yoga today (all part of the "get healthy" subset goal) and suddenly two words popped into my head: EXPECTANCY and OPPORTUNITY.
I realized that I have been looking at my life as a series of doors that have been closed to me: my job, my youth, my sanity, eating what I want, etc.
And if I sit here in the muck and the mud and just.......sit. Just hang and do nothing and look around I see.......openness.
I really don't have any idea what I am going to do next. For the first time in my life. No idea. And that thought is actually a little exciting. What do I do now? Who knows?
What if I just hang loose and keep the energy of expectancy, of opportunity?
What if I quit trying to contort my surroundings to what has always worked for me and to what I think I should be doing?
What if I just wait for awhile.....not with baited breath but with deep breathing?
Looking for possibilities everywhere.
So these are my new mantra words:
expectancy possibility opportunity
Saturday, September 8, 2012
Thursday, August 23, 2012
Making Friends with Depression
I am learning to make friends with my depression.
I have been lucky enough never to have had depression before my little perimeno dance with psychosis. Over the years I would have friends that were not exercising and drinking too much and they would complain that they were depressed. Secretly I thought that they were at some level weak or lazy. I never understood why they did not just exercise, take their pills and get on with it!
My depression crept into my life so slowly that I did not really notice it at first. I moved from a very sunny climate to a beautiful place which has a lot of rain. It's just the rain--I thought.
But when it started to get sunny and I still felt rainy I knew something was wrong. In the midst of this I was also having night sweats and hot flashes....the doctors have told me that this magical combination equals: "perimenopause with depression".
I read that depression in menopause often strikes women who have never had any depression in the past. Since that was the case with me, I had no pattern, reserve or plan for coping with it. My little depression which crept into the room like an uninvited guest soon became the loud, obnoxious drunk that I was ready to boot out RIGHT NOW!!!
"Take this pill," my Dr. said, "you will feel better in a couple of months."
Well, that pill made me a walking zombie. I stuck it out for about six weeks and when my kids were (again) physically pulling me out of bed in the morning so they would not be late (again) for school, I went back to the Dr. who said: "Oh, no. That pill is NOT for you. Try this pill. Give it a couple of months."
But that pill has not taken away my depression. Right now the Dr. has me trying hormones (which is giving me week-long raging headaches), and I can't make too many changes at once so now it is: "take this. don't call me in the morning. call me in two months."
Notice that if you add this up, six months have gone by. It has given me a lot of time to experiment with my depression.
At first, I really thought that I could easily boot that obnoxious depression OUT! Take a pill. It will be gone. Fixed. I hated my depression. Remember, I thought that weak people had it. And I was NOT weak! So I Hated it. HATED IT!! It was my enemy and had to be routed at all cost.
But the obnoxious, drunk guest was not ready to leave the party. So then I spent awhile deciding to get drunk with it. There is something so satisfying about just wallowing in depression. "I have the mental flu so I am taking time off from my life. My bed feels comfortable, I love chips and I am getting fat anyway so what the hell. Actually, what does it matter what I do on any level? Drinking feels great....and I am not working right now so why not start at lunch"?
So for several weeks that felt....not great, but somehow satisfying that I was wallowing in it and reveling in it: I am DEPRESSED!!!!! But somewhere in the midst of this I realized that I was being sucked into quicksand and I felt that I had no tool to get out and escape. I was looking around for a rope---something, anything to pull me out. Or help me pull myself out.
And then I remember very clearly waking up one morning and my first thought of the day was, "Dammit, I am so annoyed that I can't just kill myself because it would screw up my kids forever." I had been thinking about death a lot and I was really pissed about that fact that I couldn't/wouldn't kill myself. Go big or go home, right? If I am not going big with my depression, why not go home? What better and final way to escape it?
I was actually very surprised that I woke up that morning SO annoyed that I was NOT going to screw up my kids and kill myself. So, if I am not going to kill myself, I thought, why don't I give living a real shot? What if I quit drinking, really started eating right and exercising? What if I gave it some real time...like a year.....to be patient, get on the right mix of medications and hormones and do everything I can right now to take care of myself?
As I wrote in my "Martini Love Affair" post, the first tool I reached for was a book my sister gave me called the "Quit Drinking the Easy Way" by Allen Carr. His literary voice is like a goofy, used car salesman. I roll my eyes every other paragraph...but the book really does help.
Then I went back to charting my food on "My food diary.com" which I think is really good because it analyzes how healthy I am eating. I don't weigh myself yet. I am still too fragile for that. I have gained 20 pounds in two years and it will take a while to come off. My weight also really yo-yo's around with my hormone fluctuations--so I am now going for the long-haul healthy method.
I am also exercising daily. DAILY. I actually had a panic attack the first time I started swimming again. I thought: I am too fat. I look like hell. I can't get in the water and let people see me. Well guess what? I swam with an 80 year old lady and a 230 pound lady who was younger than me.
So now I am doing everything, everything in my power to help get rid of my depression,
and you know what? I still feel like shit. I am still totally depressed, my sheets are soaking wet most mornings (from sweat, not pee thankyouverymuch) and some evenings I am so edgy it is all I can do not to down a pitcher of martinis. But I don't.
Now I wear my depression like a grey body stocking. It is with me all the time,but I don't hate it. It is part of me and I don't hate me. I am reading a lot about depression and I know, I know, I know that it will get better. Eventually, my dr. and I will get the combination of drugs and hormones right and my healthy lifestyle will only help it. I feel like I am walking along with my grey body stocking but going down a right path---not lost in quicksand.
I am also trying to learn from my depression. What does it teach me? Compassion. for myself and others. It teaches me patience. It teaches me that meditation and reading and therapy and friends really helps. It also gives me gratitude for my amazing, wonderful husband, kids and sister. My kids make me laugh so much--I love them. And I know that if I can---not fight---- but go with these experiences and grow through these experiences, that I am giving my kids a gift.
I also watch old people a lot now. I swam with a guy today who had to be 90. There he was, smiling in the water. I know I will come out the other side of this.
I have been lucky enough never to have had depression before my little perimeno dance with psychosis. Over the years I would have friends that were not exercising and drinking too much and they would complain that they were depressed. Secretly I thought that they were at some level weak or lazy. I never understood why they did not just exercise, take their pills and get on with it!
My depression crept into my life so slowly that I did not really notice it at first. I moved from a very sunny climate to a beautiful place which has a lot of rain. It's just the rain--I thought.
But when it started to get sunny and I still felt rainy I knew something was wrong. In the midst of this I was also having night sweats and hot flashes....the doctors have told me that this magical combination equals: "perimenopause with depression".
I read that depression in menopause often strikes women who have never had any depression in the past. Since that was the case with me, I had no pattern, reserve or plan for coping with it. My little depression which crept into the room like an uninvited guest soon became the loud, obnoxious drunk that I was ready to boot out RIGHT NOW!!!
"Take this pill," my Dr. said, "you will feel better in a couple of months."
Well, that pill made me a walking zombie. I stuck it out for about six weeks and when my kids were (again) physically pulling me out of bed in the morning so they would not be late (again) for school, I went back to the Dr. who said: "Oh, no. That pill is NOT for you. Try this pill. Give it a couple of months."
But that pill has not taken away my depression. Right now the Dr. has me trying hormones (which is giving me week-long raging headaches), and I can't make too many changes at once so now it is: "take this. don't call me in the morning. call me in two months."
Notice that if you add this up, six months have gone by. It has given me a lot of time to experiment with my depression.
At first, I really thought that I could easily boot that obnoxious depression OUT! Take a pill. It will be gone. Fixed. I hated my depression. Remember, I thought that weak people had it. And I was NOT weak! So I Hated it. HATED IT!! It was my enemy and had to be routed at all cost.
But the obnoxious, drunk guest was not ready to leave the party. So then I spent awhile deciding to get drunk with it. There is something so satisfying about just wallowing in depression. "I have the mental flu so I am taking time off from my life. My bed feels comfortable, I love chips and I am getting fat anyway so what the hell. Actually, what does it matter what I do on any level? Drinking feels great....and I am not working right now so why not start at lunch"?
So for several weeks that felt....not great, but somehow satisfying that I was wallowing in it and reveling in it: I am DEPRESSED!!!!! But somewhere in the midst of this I realized that I was being sucked into quicksand and I felt that I had no tool to get out and escape. I was looking around for a rope---something, anything to pull me out. Or help me pull myself out.
And then I remember very clearly waking up one morning and my first thought of the day was, "Dammit, I am so annoyed that I can't just kill myself because it would screw up my kids forever." I had been thinking about death a lot and I was really pissed about that fact that I couldn't/wouldn't kill myself. Go big or go home, right? If I am not going big with my depression, why not go home? What better and final way to escape it?
I was actually very surprised that I woke up that morning SO annoyed that I was NOT going to screw up my kids and kill myself. So, if I am not going to kill myself, I thought, why don't I give living a real shot? What if I quit drinking, really started eating right and exercising? What if I gave it some real time...like a year.....to be patient, get on the right mix of medications and hormones and do everything I can right now to take care of myself?
As I wrote in my "Martini Love Affair" post, the first tool I reached for was a book my sister gave me called the "Quit Drinking the Easy Way" by Allen Carr. His literary voice is like a goofy, used car salesman. I roll my eyes every other paragraph...but the book really does help.
Then I went back to charting my food on "My food diary.com" which I think is really good because it analyzes how healthy I am eating. I don't weigh myself yet. I am still too fragile for that. I have gained 20 pounds in two years and it will take a while to come off. My weight also really yo-yo's around with my hormone fluctuations--so I am now going for the long-haul healthy method.
I am also exercising daily. DAILY. I actually had a panic attack the first time I started swimming again. I thought: I am too fat. I look like hell. I can't get in the water and let people see me. Well guess what? I swam with an 80 year old lady and a 230 pound lady who was younger than me.
So now I am doing everything, everything in my power to help get rid of my depression,
and you know what? I still feel like shit. I am still totally depressed, my sheets are soaking wet most mornings (from sweat, not pee thankyouverymuch) and some evenings I am so edgy it is all I can do not to down a pitcher of martinis. But I don't.
Now I wear my depression like a grey body stocking. It is with me all the time,but I don't hate it. It is part of me and I don't hate me. I am reading a lot about depression and I know, I know, I know that it will get better. Eventually, my dr. and I will get the combination of drugs and hormones right and my healthy lifestyle will only help it. I feel like I am walking along with my grey body stocking but going down a right path---not lost in quicksand.
I am also trying to learn from my depression. What does it teach me? Compassion. for myself and others. It teaches me patience. It teaches me that meditation and reading and therapy and friends really helps. It also gives me gratitude for my amazing, wonderful husband, kids and sister. My kids make me laugh so much--I love them. And I know that if I can---not fight---- but go with these experiences and grow through these experiences, that I am giving my kids a gift.
I also watch old people a lot now. I swam with a guy today who had to be 90. There he was, smiling in the water. I know I will come out the other side of this.
Wednesday, August 22, 2012
My love affair with my martini
This is it. I have found true love and his name is Martini. He has always been an acquaintance. Occasionally we would hang out too much and I would get sick, so we would take a break. Suddenly, though, he is the man of my life. Never have I needed him so much.
The evil Perimenomonster not only makes me depressed, it makes me very edgy. Many times I feel like I am about ready to jump out of my skin and run around the room screaming. But in the early evening, I pour that ice cold gin in that classy triangle glass. Slip in a little vermouth and a couple of queen size olives, settle back and slowly sip. The burn goes down my throat, settles in my stomach and warmth spreads throughout my body. The edginess goes away and I feel completely relaxed.
There is something illicit in this as well, which just increases my attraction.
For a few hours I am very relaxed....until that buzz wears off and I have to have another little visit with Martini again.
I read that alcohol messes with estrogen and can actually worsen depression, but how can that be when it feels so good in the moment?
As the weeks go on, I realize that my illicit love affair may be a bad relationship. I never get drunk or drive if I feel even a little bit buzzed. But recently I have been having lunch with Martini's brother The Pint. He is a very nice lunch date, and I only have one of him (MAYBE two if the edginess is really bad). The problem with dating his brother as well, is that if I start with his brother, then I really need my Martini all the more come 5 o'clock. And gradually I have noticed that I need more and more of my Martini for him to give me the same buzz he used to give me with just some little sips. And sometimes, I don't feel so great in the morning.
But just as I start to think I have a problem, the perimenomonster settles for a bit and I am independent again. I can spend time with my girlfriends Diet AandW and San Pelligrino and don't really need my true love. For about two weeks out of the month I can indulge and he is just a passing fling, not an obsession for me.
Then my "dark days" come. That is I what label them in my head. And my true love gets center stage...gets me through that edginess. Calms me and gives me that little boost of happiness that I am desperately searching for in my depression.
And then I start to think that I really do have a problem...for about 2 weeks out of the month. I wonder if I should go to an AA meeting and say, "Hello, my name is Perimenomonster and I am a raging alcoholic for about two weeks out of the month. But for the other two weeks, I can take it or leave it". I think that they would laugh at me and call me an impostor.
But I can't seem to shake this feeling that my love affair has really become an abusive relationship. I have so much depression and I have now quit exercising because I just don't really care anymore. I feel like I am in quicksand and I am searching around for some tool or rope to get me out.
So I pull out a book my sister gave me called "The Easy Way to Stop Drinking" by Allen Carr. And it tells me everything I already know:
That Allen Carr book is one of my first tools I am using to pull me out of this deep depression.
I've decided to break up with Martini. He is no good for me right now, and neither is his brother Pint or any of his family.
In his book Allen Carr talks about addressing the REASONS you drink. He states that alcohol not only masks those reasons, but makes them worse.
I drink because I feel really crazy sometimes, and depressed a lot of the time. But I am starting to look at alcohol as a bandaid with bacteria in it. I put it on to heal my cut, and it feels good for awhile, but is actually making my cut infected.
So for the past couple of weeks I have been trying to heal myself in different ways:
I went back to exercising again, even though sometimes I REALLY don't want to--I take it like medicine. I am meditating---I use CD's and breathing exercises. I walk in the sun. I am trying to eat right. I started this blog to get all of my feelings out. My Dr. gave me ativan for when I am extremely edgy. When my meditation, deep breathing, walking or exercising does not work in the moment, and I feel really crazy, I allow myself to take one. At first I thought it was a cop out. But I have been reading about ativan and I realize that when I take it occasionally, it helps calm a part of my brain. It does not numb me like alcohol. And ativan is only one of the tools I am using now, along with diet, exercise, and medication.
I still feel depressed, and I still feel crazy. But I feel like I am at least on a path. That is why I chose a roller coaster for my icon. It is loopy and goes up and down and I have given up trying to control when goes up and down (that just makes me crazier)--but I am on a TRACK and I feel like I am on the right track.
Obviously this is a blog and not some Hollywood movie. I will probably have some guilt ridden visitations with Martini, and do many self-defeating and stupid things.
But to me real courage is trying and getting up again and again. People who do that have always really inspired me. And because I feel that I am doing that right now, I am gaining self-respect in the midst of my depression and craziness.
The evil Perimenomonster not only makes me depressed, it makes me very edgy. Many times I feel like I am about ready to jump out of my skin and run around the room screaming. But in the early evening, I pour that ice cold gin in that classy triangle glass. Slip in a little vermouth and a couple of queen size olives, settle back and slowly sip. The burn goes down my throat, settles in my stomach and warmth spreads throughout my body. The edginess goes away and I feel completely relaxed.
There is something illicit in this as well, which just increases my attraction.
For a few hours I am very relaxed....until that buzz wears off and I have to have another little visit with Martini again.
I read that alcohol messes with estrogen and can actually worsen depression, but how can that be when it feels so good in the moment?
As the weeks go on, I realize that my illicit love affair may be a bad relationship. I never get drunk or drive if I feel even a little bit buzzed. But recently I have been having lunch with Martini's brother The Pint. He is a very nice lunch date, and I only have one of him (MAYBE two if the edginess is really bad). The problem with dating his brother as well, is that if I start with his brother, then I really need my Martini all the more come 5 o'clock. And gradually I have noticed that I need more and more of my Martini for him to give me the same buzz he used to give me with just some little sips. And sometimes, I don't feel so great in the morning.
But just as I start to think I have a problem, the perimenomonster settles for a bit and I am independent again. I can spend time with my girlfriends Diet AandW and San Pelligrino and don't really need my true love. For about two weeks out of the month I can indulge and he is just a passing fling, not an obsession for me.
Then my "dark days" come. That is I what label them in my head. And my true love gets center stage...gets me through that edginess. Calms me and gives me that little boost of happiness that I am desperately searching for in my depression.
And then I start to think that I really do have a problem...for about 2 weeks out of the month. I wonder if I should go to an AA meeting and say, "Hello, my name is Perimenomonster and I am a raging alcoholic for about two weeks out of the month. But for the other two weeks, I can take it or leave it". I think that they would laugh at me and call me an impostor.
But I can't seem to shake this feeling that my love affair has really become an abusive relationship. I have so much depression and I have now quit exercising because I just don't really care anymore. I feel like I am in quicksand and I am searching around for some tool or rope to get me out.
So I pull out a book my sister gave me called "The Easy Way to Stop Drinking" by Allen Carr. And it tells me everything I already know:
- that alcohol is a poison and is addictive
- that it makes depression worse and problems worse
- that as a society we are brainwashed into thinking that alcohol is not a drug and that there is "something wrong" with alcoholics.
That Allen Carr book is one of my first tools I am using to pull me out of this deep depression.
I've decided to break up with Martini. He is no good for me right now, and neither is his brother Pint or any of his family.
In his book Allen Carr talks about addressing the REASONS you drink. He states that alcohol not only masks those reasons, but makes them worse.
I drink because I feel really crazy sometimes, and depressed a lot of the time. But I am starting to look at alcohol as a bandaid with bacteria in it. I put it on to heal my cut, and it feels good for awhile, but is actually making my cut infected.
So for the past couple of weeks I have been trying to heal myself in different ways:
I went back to exercising again, even though sometimes I REALLY don't want to--I take it like medicine. I am meditating---I use CD's and breathing exercises. I walk in the sun. I am trying to eat right. I started this blog to get all of my feelings out. My Dr. gave me ativan for when I am extremely edgy. When my meditation, deep breathing, walking or exercising does not work in the moment, and I feel really crazy, I allow myself to take one. At first I thought it was a cop out. But I have been reading about ativan and I realize that when I take it occasionally, it helps calm a part of my brain. It does not numb me like alcohol. And ativan is only one of the tools I am using now, along with diet, exercise, and medication.
I still feel depressed, and I still feel crazy. But I feel like I am at least on a path. That is why I chose a roller coaster for my icon. It is loopy and goes up and down and I have given up trying to control when goes up and down (that just makes me crazier)--but I am on a TRACK and I feel like I am on the right track.
Obviously this is a blog and not some Hollywood movie. I will probably have some guilt ridden visitations with Martini, and do many self-defeating and stupid things.
But to me real courage is trying and getting up again and again. People who do that have always really inspired me. And because I feel that I am doing that right now, I am gaining self-respect in the midst of my depression and craziness.
midlife madness
This blog is for me.
I have no medical background---I don't assume to be a doctor or a psychologist.
I just have some peri-menopausal craziness that I have to get off my chest.
If there are any women out there in the cyber-universe who can relate to this, or if it helps you in any way, then it will make ME happy (see, I told you this blog is for me).
I have recently learned that I am very special. I am one of those 8-10% of women who have PMDD as brought on by "special sensitivity to hormone fluctuations in peri-menopause."
You can look up what PMDD stands for but to me it stands for Psycho Most
Days, Dammit!
Until this past year, I have prided myself on being very even keel. I was sick during my pregnancies, but not crazy. I never had much PMS. I always listened with empathy to anyone who had depression, but inside I always thought, "Why don't they just exercise and eat right? Why are they opposed to medication or why do they go off it?"
Well, I am here to apologize for any ignorant thoughts I have had about depression!
Depression sucks! At the very time that you should exercise the most, you just don't really care. I am on medication, but it takes a while to work: you have to find the right one, and then the right dose of the right one. And then there is the hormone factor: estrogen? birth control pills? progesterone? double the dose of the antidepressant?
Current medical thinking is that these remedies need to be tailored to each individual woman. So I try them all in whatever combinations and keep a detailed log on how crazy I am and when (did I actually try to run over someone with my car today or did I only THINK about it? Or was it a "smile and wave day?")
Meanwhile months are going by and my husband is getting that little brittle look in his eyes behind his smile. He is starting to use a smile and tone of voice I have heard him use to calm puppies or screaming kids and I KNOW he is just patronizing me. And my kids seem to be a little skitterish for some reason: "mommy, are you crabby again today?" (yikes) Or my 13 year old daughter who says, "Mom: I am PMS-ing but YOU are PMS-ing ALL THE TIME!"
I do have to give my husband credit, though. The night I woke him up because I dreamed he was having an affair with the mousy, quiet girl who gives us massages (because she was CALM---that is why he was drawn to her). When I grilled him at 2 a.m. he smiled genuinely and calmly and said that no, he was not having an affair, except with work (my husband has many stressful deadlines) and that THAT affair was very one sided.
Then he gave me a gentle hug and held my hand and he went back to sleep.
I know he is not having an affair, but I still think he is....and that will only make sense in the crazy mind of the perimenomonster that I have become!
Stay tuned for Chapter 2: "My love affair with my martini"
I have no medical background---I don't assume to be a doctor or a psychologist.
I just have some peri-menopausal craziness that I have to get off my chest.
If there are any women out there in the cyber-universe who can relate to this, or if it helps you in any way, then it will make ME happy (see, I told you this blog is for me).
I have recently learned that I am very special. I am one of those 8-10% of women who have PMDD as brought on by "special sensitivity to hormone fluctuations in peri-menopause."
You can look up what PMDD stands for but to me it stands for Psycho Most
Days, Dammit!
Until this past year, I have prided myself on being very even keel. I was sick during my pregnancies, but not crazy. I never had much PMS. I always listened with empathy to anyone who had depression, but inside I always thought, "Why don't they just exercise and eat right? Why are they opposed to medication or why do they go off it?"
Well, I am here to apologize for any ignorant thoughts I have had about depression!
Depression sucks! At the very time that you should exercise the most, you just don't really care. I am on medication, but it takes a while to work: you have to find the right one, and then the right dose of the right one. And then there is the hormone factor: estrogen? birth control pills? progesterone? double the dose of the antidepressant?
Current medical thinking is that these remedies need to be tailored to each individual woman. So I try them all in whatever combinations and keep a detailed log on how crazy I am and when (did I actually try to run over someone with my car today or did I only THINK about it? Or was it a "smile and wave day?")
Meanwhile months are going by and my husband is getting that little brittle look in his eyes behind his smile. He is starting to use a smile and tone of voice I have heard him use to calm puppies or screaming kids and I KNOW he is just patronizing me. And my kids seem to be a little skitterish for some reason: "mommy, are you crabby again today?" (yikes) Or my 13 year old daughter who says, "Mom: I am PMS-ing but YOU are PMS-ing ALL THE TIME!"
I do have to give my husband credit, though. The night I woke him up because I dreamed he was having an affair with the mousy, quiet girl who gives us massages (because she was CALM---that is why he was drawn to her). When I grilled him at 2 a.m. he smiled genuinely and calmly and said that no, he was not having an affair, except with work (my husband has many stressful deadlines) and that THAT affair was very one sided.
Then he gave me a gentle hug and held my hand and he went back to sleep.
I know he is not having an affair, but I still think he is....and that will only make sense in the crazy mind of the perimenomonster that I have become!
Stay tuned for Chapter 2: "My love affair with my martini"
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