Something disturbing started happening in January—something I hadn't encountered before.
It was right after my first OBGYN appointment, before I even saw the Reproductive Endocrinologist. Because of the severity of the PCOS symptoms I had been experiencing, I wanted to take the A1C test to check my blood sugar levels. I was really nervous and, even after the appointment ended, my anxiety continued to compound.
I was diagnosed with Generalized Anxiety Disorder almost ten years ago, which felt very… well, duh. Why wouldn't I have anxiety? Why wouldn't everyone have anxiety? What isn't there to be anxious about? In this economy?! Suffice it to say, throughout my 20s, I managed to successfully curb my anxiety through work and wine. The non-stop grind created the illusion of control, while the alcohol quieted my brain's constant chatter. And, in astrology, we could chalk this up to Capricorn Rising, Pisces Moon. Voilà!
But, alas, those old band-aids just weren't sticking anymore: After serious professional burnout in 2020, I adopted much more rigorous boundaries with work, and—with the PCOS running rampant, coupled with my desire to get pregnant—I drastically reduced my alcohol intake. So, without realizing I was raw-dogging my anxiety disorder, I did what any modern curious mind would do: I started pulling some tarot cards.