I was wearing a cute dress and cat brooch:

But then I decided to change, because my body hurts today. It’s partially soreness from yesterday’s workout, but the bigger part is tension pain throughout my head, neck, shoulders, and back. So now I’m wearing this instead:

It was nice to free the boobs from boob jail – this shirt seemed appropriate under the circumstances. Haha. And my husband seems to like these basic looks better than my usual attire anyway so win-win.

Last night, D and I took a long walk, and I ended up spewing emotional vomit all over him, and I feel terrible about it. It’s not fair for me to place all of my emotional baggage at his feet and ask him to carry it. Help me carry it? Sure. But he doesn’t need to hear some of it. Some of it is just too much; especially considering he can’t do a damn thing about it. So I reached out to a therapist friend, whom I’m hoping will have a referral for me. I need someone I can talk to. The cancer psychologist I met with was cool, but he’s not the right fit for the shit I’m ready to dig into. I want a female. I need someone who can at least sort of relate to what I’ve already given up in terms of my body and self esteem. I need a female perspective on how to deal with my insecurities about the future and about my relationship. In the meantime, my friend Kara has been stepping up in a big way. She has her own cancer diagnosis, so she understands. It’s good to vent to her, but still…I need professional help. My issues are a fucking full time job right now. I put up a brave front, but this is so fucking hard. The bitterness – it’s palpable. It’s like I’m choking on it.

Wow that was a novel.

Ugh there is still so much shit left to do today. I’m thinking of taking some time off, but I feel bad if I’m not constantly making money for the firm, because who the fuck knows what’s going to happen with the economy. But I need to give that up, because I certainly won’t be thinking of how I wished I had worked more when I’m on my death bed.

I just keep reminding myself that despite how difficult shit is, and how disappointed I am in some things, I am actually very fucking lucky. Even with cancer, I’m luckier than a lot of people. His love is worth more than anything, and I have it. I can’t lose sight of that.