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"You are braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think." -Winnie the Pooh

Today was horrifying.

Not the entire day, mind you, as it is only 12:24 PM. Yet, I have endured enough stress and awfulness combined with a dose of mortification to last the entire day. In fact, I think I've met my quota for the whole weekend.

Surprisingly, I slept like a rock last night. I expected to be awake for half of the night, playing over the details of yesterday's dumping, convinced that I would be rocking in a corner of my bedroom by the time dawn rolled around. Instead, I turned my phone off (which never happens) and passed out around 11:00. I took that as a good sign. I thought too soon.

This morning, I dropped Kylie off at school and returned home to prep for the appointment that I had with my urologist. Ugh...urologist. It just sounds like a bad place. There I was in the shower, planning to wear something cute that would help me retain what is left of my dwindling self-esteem, ready to take on the world, and suddenly I was in tears. It's funny how things hit you when you least expect it. Yesterday, I was pretty okay. Today, I could barely pull it together long enough to rinse the conditioner out of my hair. Blow drying my hair seemed like an impossible, daunting task. Everything takes five more minutes than normal.

It's so stupid to be this upset about a relationship that lasted only a couple of months. Yet, I will allow myself a little bit of grieving. It sucks to have someone promise you things and make you believe you're not quite as awful as you thought, only to unexpectedly change his mind. And then there is that mental tug of war...was it something I said? something I did? How does someone go from telling you that he feels a connection with you to saying that he feels nothing? What happened?

Part of me thinks that he just couldn't tolerate my health issues. Yeah, I'm sure I came across as needy. What did he expect? I'm scared. And I suppose that I would prefer to find this out now rather than later. If he can't handle my fear and insecurities about this, he isn't right for me. I get that. But it isn't any easier.

Being alone is part of what made today's appointment so bad. I was overcome with anxiety before I even sat down to complete the paperwork. I had looked up some of the things that they were going to do to me in an attempt to make a diagnosis. There is nothing worse than knowing that something is wrong with you, yet having no idea of what it is, except for the things that doctors do to try to figure it out. I always advance directly to worst-case-scenario. I was in tears as I sat down in the waiting room, and there was no kleenex in sight. I resorted to using the bottom of my dress to wipe my nose, as I couldn't even find a restroom to steal toilet paper. By the time I met my doctor, I had reapplied my makeup twice; by the time he was finished with me, I had given up on makeup. The remains of my self-esteem were flushed down the toilet after I peed in a cup for the upteenth time. When I finally escaped to the parking lot, I sat in my car with my face buried in the steering wheel and let out those awful, body-shaking sobs that are reserved for the worst moments of your existence. When I pulled myself together a few moments later, I reached for my seatbelt and saw a small group of people across the parking lot, staring at me in horrified silence. I'm sure they were trying to decide if they should intervene. I simply blew my nose on the Subway napkins I found stuffed in my glove compartment, started the ignition, and drove away.

Now, I'm waiting for a call to let me know when I meet with another specialist, a top-notch urologist in the area. The initial assumptions from today's visit are that I have interstitial cystitis (as I originally thought) and fibromyalgia. Hopefully, I will find out something for sure very soon. I feel like I'm on a roller coaster, and I'm having a difficult time pulling it together.