When I started writing on the internet twelve years ago (twelve years ago this month actually), I didn’t know.
I didn’t know what the future would be like. I didn’t know the things I would experience. I honestly couldn’t imagine what anything beyond the next few weeks of my life would look like.
And so, for years, I shared my place on the internet with far too many people. I shared without discretion. Hell, I had the damn link posted on my AIM profile for God knows how long.
Now I wonder what this blog would have looked like if I hadn’t done that. And you know what? I’ll never know.
I don’t know how many people from my “real” life have kept the link somewhere. How many people have forgotten about it but still have it saved in a favorites list they scan through at random. How many people still check in from time to time when they are bored and see me in their list of FB friends. I don’t have a clue.
And the truth is, I hate that. I’ve thought so many times about shutting this place down. Every year I struggle with the idea of not renewing this domain. Running away from my little home here on the internet, the one I’ve lived at for over a decade.
But I don’t have the balls to do it. I don’t know if I ever will. You see, after writing here for so long this has become as much a part of my identity as anything else in my life that means anything.
Maybe that’s weird, but, well, so am I. Clearly.
So the way I see it, I have two choices. I can start being honest here again and have this continue to mean something. Or I can post pictures of my cat and talk about the weather and have this place fade to the point where it means nothing to me anymore and the only option left will be to start over.
For now, I’m going to give option one a try.
You know this quote?
Work like you don’t need money. Love like you’ve never been hurt. And dance like no one’s watching.
Here is my best attempt at blogging like no one’s reading.
I’m starting here and now. And with any luck this won’t end up like so many “real” posts I’ve started over the past who knows how long – in the drafts folder, or more likely, in the trash folder.
So the truth is, I’m a fucking mess. A hot, disgusting, messed up mess.
I feel more broken than I have in a long time.
I spent the last five days in my room, mostly in bed. I have withdrawn from everything. From my friends, from thinking about the future, from the ability to hope for anything good to happen.
I broke down completely on Sunday and spent most of the day crying. Over what exactly? I don’t know.
I think about things and then I hate myself for them. I’m going to be in two of my best friends’ weddings this year and all I can really think is how it’s going to feel when they get pregnant before I do. And then I hate myself even more for thinking that.
Because I wish I knew how to just be happy for them, but I can’t think about them moving forward in their lives without feeling like I’m going backwards.
I hate this vicious cycle of sadness, bitterness, guilt, self-hatred, more sadness, etc.
I hate that I can’t even really bring myself to open Facebook anymore because I don’t want to see it. I don’t want to see other people living their lives because I feel like I don’t know how to live mine anymore.
I hate that I’m being fake every day when I congratulate people over their pregnancies, over new babies, over second or third babies. When I patiently listen to people complain about how hard it is to be a parent.
It makes me want to die when I hear things like that.
I hate how scared I am of the future now. I feel like I’ve stopped knowing how to imagine good things happening.
Yes, I’ve always had my struggles with depression, but I think no matter how bad it got before, there was always a little part of me that had hope that something better was coming.
I feel like that part of me is gone now.
All I can see is how things can go wrong. And all I can feel is scared.
Broken, lost, hopeless, helpless.
I was talking to a good friend the other day, really the only person “in real life” that I’ve been able to talk about this honestly with at all, about how as wonderful as Paul has been, sometimes it’s hard because I don’t feel like we’re totally on the same page.
He is so fucking hopeful. And optimistic. That somehow this is going to all work out. That I will be able to get pregnant, that the baby will make it to viability, that we will have a baby in our home at the end of this long road we’ve been walking.
I don’t know. Maybe it is better that one of us feels that way. Maybe someone needs to?
I know this is not the right way for me to be approaching all of this. Especially right now in the middle of transitioning meds and preparing my body to be a hospitable place to house a fragile life that will be 100% dependent on it for nine months.
But I think that’s also why I feel this way. Because I’m so close and I feel so far away. I have no confidence in this broken down, beat up body.
And I feel like I’ve already failed by not being able to get completely off the meds for this. I feel guilty that if I do get pregnant, my baby is going to be at risk just for the fact that it’s in this POS body. That I’ll be exposing it to all these unknowns because I have to keep taking meds for the duration of any pregnancy. And then I feel selfish because I still want so badly to be pregnant.
In my really low moments, I think that this must be why God doesn’t want me to have a baby. Because I’m a horrible person and I don’t deserve one.
And I know this is ridiculous, because if anyone, my friend I mentioned above, my cousin who has now had two miscarriages, anyone going through all this BS ever said they felt that way about themselves, I would tell them how ridiculous they were being, that God doesn’t pick and choose who to give babies to by who “deserves” them (I used to watch Teen Mom, after all). But this is the thought I torture myself with anyway. Because it feels true.
I’m trying to keep moving forward. Get up out of bed. Put one foot in front of the other. Swallow the tears that come randomly throughout the day.
Trying to figure out how to get the hope back.
But I don’t know.