So I saw my therapist earlier today. I was dreading it all week and especially all morning. I would have preferred to stay at work. That's how much I didn't look forward to this. And it finally happened. I cried at therapy. It was worse than I thought it would be. I was so uncomfortable throughout the entire appointment. Uncomfortable because she was forcing me to think about things I didn't want to be thinking about. Like what I'd say to my friends if I was going to open up about my PPD and any time I said something negative she'd ask me if I was either minimizing or being hard on myself and make me say something positive instead. Holy fuck was it hard. And then I made the mistake of telling her I wanted to open up to my dad (he's coming to visit next week) so she made me pretend she was my dad and say what I'd say to him. I hadn't thought about what I'd say so I really struggled to find words. Then I felt stupid, then I cried. ugh.

So my homework is to open up to my dad next week, start telling her when I'm minimizing, and keep writing about my feelings. I told her I was so depressed the last week that I ended up being completely apathetic to any of the things she wanted me to do. I've been sleeping like shit, waking up early (even with the trazodone), and being exhausted all day. The anti-anxiety meds make me sleepy at work still. This all seems so impossibly hard.

Tonight the big bird is heading out to see a band with some of his buddies. I'm glad he'll get to go out for the night and have a break from daddy duty. I'm still anxious as fuck about how I'm going to handle my time with her tonight. Will she be fussy? Will she not go to sleep? I'm such a mess. The therapist kept telling me I'd feel good about my decision to become a mom at some point. I'm not so sure.