I remain baffled that doctors whose whole professional purpose is to treat pain don't comprehend what pain patients are dealing with. Type it, ita !, and if necessary just hand it to him to read. And put in your file.

Bad night. Having to drink with new co-workers hasn't helped. I feel like I've failed at every personal relationship I've ever tried to have.

It's times like this that one is sharply reminded that alcohol is in fact a depressant.

The good news is, you really, truly, chemically, will feel better once it has worked its way out of your system.

What in the almighty fuck, ita. Unfreakingbelievable. I don't understand.

Need to whinge for a second. Got off of work early and weather cleared up so I was thinking of going to see some free music that I usually can't make. But I have another migraine, or more of the same, not sure. I took my meds today, so it's not that. Water and food aren't helping. Lying on the floor doing acupressure didn't help, and it almost always does, at least a little.

Next steps are a shower, a bit more food and bed with the heating pad. Getting really tired of this.

On the gratitude side of things, we managed to get in almost a full day of work despite the rain and I got done what I wanted to in admin stuff this morning. So that's good.

Jilli, I was offline for your ~ma request, but I hope it went well!

When I have weird symptoms that I haven't had before, I should not google them. Google thinks I have shingles. (I'm pretty sure I don't have shingles. No idea what I do have, though.)

Shingles is very big now.

Retroactive ~ma, Jilli!

Shingles is very big now.

Hil's above doing the trendy thing with ailments. She's more cutting edge.

If you even think there's a possibility it could be shingles, you really don't want to delay treatment.

You know that Tim's a smart man who made an informed choice. (That's not a question--I know you know). You didn't slip a hood over the most charming guy in the parking lot and roofie him into marrying you. He had a lot of time to decide that even though he hasn't seen everything, the stuff he's seen is so fucking awesome that the less than radically awesome stuff is totally worth it, and that the as yet unexperienced parts are worth it too, whatever the ratio of upcoming awesome:huh did not see that coming is.

He's a rational adult who said he wants to do this long long term. That's some of what the ring was for. It should be a safety blanket for the anti-depressant issues you're about to embark on. Dating rules don't have to say "in (mental or below the neck) sickness and in health" but it's implied with most weddings whether stated or not. It's part of the point.

I know. But I also know I'm asking him to take on a lot. It's stupid little things, like -- I have little interest in eating, and zero fucks to give about actually preparing a meal. Now, this was fine when I lived alone, because I could eat a handful of shredded cheese or just not eat. But Tim comes home from work, and is hungry, and at this time in my life I'm not working, so I certainly have the wherewithal to make dinner. But instead I just have this blank stare when he asks what I want for dinner.

And the problem with this specific scenario is that when it comes to meals, Tim SUCKS. If you ask him what he wants for dinner, he just...spaces out. His brain becomes a shoe, or something. He cannot decide, cannot choose. I don't know if it's an ADD thing, like he's so overloaded at the end of a long workday that his brain can't make one more decision, or if it's just a Tim thing. But he goes into vapor lock if he has to decide what's for dinner.

I've gotten used to just deciding ahead of time and then texting to be sure XYZ is okay. (Although I have told him that if XYZ is *not* okay, then his answer cannot be "no"; it MUST be "no, but I would like ABC.") And 95% of the time -- when I'm not depressed -- that's fine with me. I *like* running things, and I always get to eat what I want.

But I'm having a hard time giving a fuck about dinner now, and Tim comes home, asks what I want, and I stare blankly at him, and he wanders away to take a shower, and 10 p.m. rolls around and we haven't eaten, because I give zero fucks (although I know that I do *need* to eat) and he is physically incapable of deciding.

So I feel really really horribly guilty that my depression is leading to him not eating. But then I get pissed because he is a grown-ass adult, and how in the HELL did he not die of starvation before I moved in and started making sure he had dinner? I KNOW he ate dinner on the regular before I moved in, so at some point in his life, he had to make that decision every night. And then I get pissed because he won't man up and do that for ME.

But I don't say any of that, because it's counterproductive, and then it's 10 p.m. and we haven't eaten yet, and I get pissed and put a potato in the microwave, and he asks all plaintively, "Can *I* have a potato, too?" Because all of a sudden, he can comprehend food.

As you can see, I am a glowing example of mental goddamn health, and it was easier when I lived alone, because I could just eat a handful of cheese, or at least not feel guilty that I wasn't starving my spouse, or not feel angry that a grown-ass adult can't feed *his* spouse.

t edit Whoa, I really feel strongly about this. I should buy a blank notebook and just journal this shit out instead of working it out in-thread.

If you even think there's a possibility it could be shingles, you really don't want to delay treatment.

So far, it's just that I feel kind of crappy and I've got a rash on my neck and behind my ear. The rash isn't blistering, but touching it hurts. I'll see how I'm feeling tomorrow and figure out then if I need to go to a doctor.