I went to the therapist today, by myself. Usually David and I go together. He saw the therapist on his own before we got married and then we started going together. Our visits are billed to his insurance because my mine is extremely restrictive and almost everything is out of network.

So today, since I was by myself, she billed my visit with a special code called “family without patient,” even though I’ve become the patient. Funny.

I didn’t make a follow-up appointment, at least not yet. I don’t know what else to say to her right now. I know what my problem is. We’ve had an extremely difficult year, David and I, with too much going on. So I’ve been dealing with those things.

Some of them are resolving on their own. For example, David is up and around and again, so I no longer have to do all the housework and errands and dog-caring myself. And with him working a lot of the anxiety I had over finances has dissipated.

Some things I had to change to make myself happy. The biggest thing I did was interview for and accept a new job. Starting November 8th I’ll be transferring to my hospital’s outpatient cancer center, where I’ll be giving chemotherapy, blood transfusions, and the like. This is the sort of job that I get to graduate to since I put in my dues with inpatient. I’ll get every weekend and every holiday off, and hopefully my days will be less hectic and will involve less death and dying.

(I do want to mention, though, that I have loved the unit that I work on, am grateful for all the experience it gave me, and will miss a lot of people there. But it’s just crazy.)

I’ve also learned to change a lot of behavior, or at least I’m working on it. I’ve realized that it’s okay to cut myself some slack when it comes to the house being perfectly clean or with exercising every free day I get. And although I’m trying hard to follow my nutritionist’s advice and eat gluten- and dairy-free, I decided that there’s some things I’m just not willing to give up. I’ll just do my best.

The one thing that I still deal with every single day is infertility. It blows my mind that if I hadn’t have miscarried I’d be a mother now. But I’m not, and I don’t know when I will be. These days, when I experience moments of overwhelming sadness it’s usually related to this.

But at least it’s an improvement over being sad all the time for no discernible reason at all.