I really shouldn't write about this.  But this tiny little blog is my therapy sometimes.  (And for $20 a month it's a heck of a lot cheaper! hahah)

If you know me... and have read my blogs in the past... you know - I was a bit psycho last year. 

Well.. maybe psycho is a little harsh.. how about depressed.  BIG TIME.

As I sit here...next to the cutest little boy in the world... I have to say it out loud.

I AM NOT GOING TO LET HISTORY REPEAT ITSELF.

No... I'm not depressed.  I have been off meds and in a happier place since December.  (I stopped taking antidepressants because a woman I work with ((who is a doctor)) told me some scary info and I was DONE with that!!  She said I could have seizures... and the thought of having a seizure driving with my kid in the back scared the hell out of me.)

I figure...if no one else can make me happy... then drugs won't.. I have to make MYSELF happy.

Anyway... my husband said something to me last night that really brought up some awful and ugly memories of when I was so sad.  Why did he have to do that?  Why couldn't he just assume that I am better.  That there was no longer an issue.  Does he think that history will repeat itself?  Does he think that ugly animal might come out and rev its evil head?

I didn't say anything to him at the time... I just went to take a bath.  And to bed.  (I have a serious addiction to my bath tub.  It's therapeutic like my blog.)

Then this morning.... I started thinking about things...and yet... that ugly animal started to awaken. 

And the tears just rocked my pillowcase.

So I sent him a mean email.

Then the phone rang.  And the beast came out.

A lovely argument happened... and I said some things that weren't really thought out. 

And then we hung up.

Ugly.

Mad.

Mean.

That's the problem.  I have a horrible way of letting something build up and bother me...to the point I start dragging all the issues that have bothered me into the picture. Instead of just saying things when they bother me and gettttttttttt over it.

But why did he have to bring that up last night?  Now going into a trip for a wedding... I already have that 'loser' stamp on my forehead.  Because of what he said it's affected the next 4 days.  Puts me on eggshells.

But oh so lucky me.  I packed my mom cardigan and hairbows and I can be June Cleaver with the best of them.

On the outside.

But on the inside...history will not repeat itself. 

And June Cleaver could be a bitch too if she had to. 

Gotta go. Laundry is beckoning.