Yesterday

Yesterday, I wore my new favorite outfit.

If you're wondering, that's an black/cream/yellow (it sounds like a hot mess,  but it's really a nice combination) Ann Taylor silk blouse, paired with a black pencil skirt and fine-guage black cardigan and closed toe wedge heels. Tall ones. Very tall heels.

I wanted to portray the image of a confident person. I wanted to look on top of my game and in control. But not that I was trying too hard. It had to look professional and put-together, but not desperate. My make-up was a little more polished this morning, and my hair styled impeccably.

Why go through all this trouble you ask?

Because yesterday was the day I actually met with a medical professional face-to-face, and told her I felt like I was losing my shit.

Not in those words exactly. But it does take a fabulous outfit to summon the courage to ask for help.

Only slightly less eloquently did I say things along the lines of: I am constantly: irritable, frustrated, bummed, exhausted, anxious, anxious and more anxious. I told her I was feeling overwhelmed and undermotivated, and as if I had slipped just a little behind and now I was running to catch up, but I couldn't. I mentioned how I was not sleeping, running my mind a million miles a minute, and my body ached.

And you know what? She said that I am not the first person to feel this way.

And it made me feel a lot better.

After talking to her for a short while longer, I walked out of her office, with a script in my hand for an incredibly low-dose anti-depressant to help me catch up. And get out of this place. And to try to get my life back in order.

For the first time this morning, I woke up not dreading the day ahead of me. Call it a placebo effect or whatever, but I feel like there is a light at the end of the tunnel. It will take some work to get there, I am sure. But this is a GREAT first step.