Plan of Attack

Sometimes I really worry my husband. My husband tends to get concerned about things that never even cross my mind-- this blog, for instance, though he's never read it. He has expressed fear that whatever random musings I jot down here can and will be used against me like a weapon. Either some overly righteous person is going to turn me in to CPS, DPS will fire Terence because I express "inappropriate" opinions, or some random psycho that he has arrested at some point will use my blog to track us down and kill us all.

See, that kind of stuff just never occurs to me. (Besides, if some psycho wants to track us down and kill us, there are far easier ways to do that than by just stumbling across my search-engine-blocked blog.) As for some sicko intentionally targeting our beautiful kids, that one has occurred to me, but I guess I'm just not paranoid enough to fake every body's names and pictures. That would take all the fun out of the blog.

One of the big areas of Terence's anxiety on my behalf is the health category. The man was practically begging me the other day to go get a mammogram for fear that I might get breast cancer and die. Never mind that I'm not yet 35. And have any of your husbands read the insert in the tampon box that talks about toxic shock syndrome? Mine has, and he did (futilely) try to convince me to give up using them as a result. Sorry, honey. One of the reasons I'm sure I was placed on the earth at this point in time is because of the availability of tampons and running water. No way am I going to voluntarily give one of those up, even if it means I am risking death! And seriously, my chances of being struck by lightning are probably much greater than getting TSS. (Not to worry though, my husband frets about me getting struck by lightning too.)

Today my long-suffering husband is uneasy because I have been so blue. I'm sure he's living in fear of repeating the awful months of depression I lived through in Sanders. Things are nowhere near that bad. But for once, I actually feel like maybe, just maybe, Terence isn't being unreasonable. I have been feeling worse and worse nearly every day. Yes, I know it's finally winter now in Phoenix, and that has a lot to do with it. But in the past, I've always sailed through the holidays with nary a hiccup, only to get slammed with depression in January.

But if I'm feeling it already, and it's not even Christmas yet, what will I be like come January?

Well, I know some things I can do. 1-- I need to get outside more and soak up some more sunlight. 2-- Ratcheting up the exercise level again should help. Endorphins really make a difference, and I've been slacking lately. 3-- Doing some of the cognitive therapy exercises I learned the last time I went through this should help a lot. 4-- Going back on my antidepressant. (The doctor, under my pleading, cleared me to wean myself off it, but it doesn't seem to be going so well. Hmph. And I was so excited to not to have to remember any pills anymore!)

I know all these tips-- and my husband has been begging me to do everything on this list and more-- but I can't seem to bring myself to do any of it. So today, I decided to throw it all to the wind and blog about it. See, if you guys know about it, there's a good chance you'll ask me if I'm doing any of this stuff. And that, hopefully, will help motivate me to get my act together a bit. (Because some part of me is just not going to want to mope around if people know about it, right?)

What do you think of my plan to force myself into action? I'll let you know if it works. . . .