Can O' Worms

This month has put my Prozac to the test. Seriously. The holidays are stressful enough without being 9 months pregnant and nearly 1,000 miles away from family. But then I had to open my mouth and make life more complicated.

See, I finally spilled my darkest secret to my husband a little over a week ago. I had originally sworn that I would take said secret to my grave. But then a little piece of family news drudged up some unpleasant emotions, and I thought I might explode if I didn't tell someone. So I told my husband and spent the next few days moping in silence, trying to process the pain of a wound that had (I thought) been closed for years.

Now I have a new problem. My husband thinks I should tell my brother, since the information might concern him. The thought had crossed my mind a while back, but I convinced myself that it was easier to let sleeping dogs lie. Besides, any backlash resulting from releasing this secret will all fall on me: the guilt, the stress, the anger. And I don't know if I'm strong enough to live through all that again.

I almost wish I hadn't told my husband. But I didn't know what else to do. As it was, I had already kept it inside for far too long.

On top of all this, I've been ill with flu-like symptoms. The apartment is a disaster. My To-Do list for the holidays keeps growing. My body aches as it expands and prepares to give birth. I often feel like weeping. Sometimes I do.

I should probably seek counseling.