Here Comes the Crazy

So the pregnancy books say that mood swings are common in the first trimester, but usually level off in the second. I didn’t have any trouble with The Crazy in the first few months, but in the last week it has been coming thick and fast.

The latest issue of Harper’s magazine made me cry for hours. Similarly a dream I had the other night, where Sam fell from the top of a skyscraper. (It was, like, the future? And we were sunbathing on some kind of floating air mattress? And talking about what we wanted for dinner, but then we docked the mattress, and I got off onto the roof, and I held out a hand to help Sam onto the roof, but I wasn’t really close enough and, reaching for me, he plummeted to his death. Oh my god, I’m crying again just thinking about it.)

The other night Sam came home and mentioned that there was “a cute French girl” moving into our apartment building. My crazy brain heard: “You are an ugly whale, and not French.” More tears.

Today I was cleaning the house and ended in a blind rage, striking the medicine cabinet again and again with the handle of my hairbrush, because some stuff fell on me when I opened it. Also, more crying.

I know this is hormonal, and that helps: there’s a reason for it, and it’s not really my fault, and it’s not grounded in anything that’s actually wrong with my life. And it will pass. As long as I can hold on to that understanding, I think I’ll be fine. The problem with being crazy is when you forget that you’re crazy.

Note to Future Shannon: Honey, you crazy. Go make Sam give you a hug.

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