Monday, September 17, 2007
You're blue to the point that your husband feels like a failure.
You're edgy, and friends are starting to avoid you for fear of pushing you off the brink of whatever you're teetering on.
Joy is fleeting, and hard to catch by its elusive tail as it flits by you on the way to someone else's heart.
And finally, after three months of wondering why the darkness is deepening ...
You realize that this is how long you've been on the prescribed hormonal treatment to correct the fact that your body seems unable to recall exactly how to orchestrate the delicate symphony that is a woman's monthly art.
Praise God for light bulb moments that a) reassure you that you are not going to drop your basket and b) remind you why you steer clear of doctors and their "one-size fits all cures" in general.