I'm not paranoid, you really all are out to get me.

I was sitting in the doctor's waiting room yesterday with all the pregnant women who make up the majority of his patients. A couple of them had their partners with them -- very obviously being the "supportive boyfriend/husband" and just as obviously really wishing they could be somewhere else.

The supportive partner thing is a little weird for me. I really like have people around who I can vent at when I'm stressed out or pissed off. But when I'm scared -- stay the hell away from me.

Not much really scares me. But when I went in for the surgery I was terrified and I didn't do a very good job of hiding it, either. Everybody who is close to me offered to come into the hospital with me. I said no. If I started to lose my shit, I wanted to be able to do expend my energy concentrating on whatever it took to make me feel better -- the last thing I needed was to have to worry about whether I was going to have to modulate my behaviour in order to reassure somebody else that I wasn't going to make a break through a window or something. (And I would try to do that -- er, modulate my behaviour I mean. No matter how much anybody tried to reassure me that I didn't need to.)

My mother seemed to be the only person who really didn't "get" this. She kept insisting that having her there would be supportive. No mom, it would be distracting. She went along with what I wanted, but I could tell it seemed contradictory to her.

I think maybe I'm just weird.

Anyway. Yesterday was a freaking long day.

( dear diary, dear diary )

I know this shit probably isn't very entertaining for the rest of the world, but it's fookin' exemplary at fighting the holy-shits-I-didn't-get-done-half-the-stuff-i-wanted-to's.

Now, off to shower and dress make plans to meet up with the_axel and his visitors for a pint or three.