I'm Okay. Really.

Might as well be honest and confess that I'm a bit of a wreck. Don't know whether being sick or being gone pushed me over the edge of sanity. I don't like to cry. I see it as an inability within myself to accurately and calmly deal with whatever is bothering me. And it's ugly, loud, and pity-provoking. Yuck. Yesterday, there was crying. Hysterical crying. Over the dead baby that I don't get to see this month like I planned. But the thing is, I am okay. Really. It's something that happens and quite honestly, my focus is on trying to get pregnant again and figuring out how to get this one born at ten months alive. You know, simple. But no, my damn feelings that already had their time, have to rear up and cause a meltdown. For no good reason. Because, before I say it too much, I am okay. I have a purpose, a focus, I eat, exercise, think about other things, pet the dogs. I don't sit around all day and cry about how the world is unfair. I try my best to heal by being proactive and healthy. Sometimes the bad thoughts get the better of me, but I don't wallow - there isn't a point to it. So why am I left crying so hard that I contemplate pulling the jeep over so that I don't kill someone? Why? Crappy subconscious is who I'm set to blame. Wonder if he'll admit to the ruse.

It scared me enough that I wrote about it in the DB journal, then in a letter to M, and finally, told C about it last night. Probably freaked him out a little bit. Any sign of female instability does that to him. It's just, I thought I was okay. Now, I'm going to go research iPods - any advice?