I can’t believe I’ve let another two weeks pass since my last post.
Actually, I haven’t “let” it at all.
I’ve struggled to find something to say. To find the right words to explain that even though on the surface everything appears to be same old, same old, I’m a mess. (Okay, so maybe everything is same old, same old.)
I feel so stuck. I know I need to move forward but I’m just not sure how to do that right now.
I wonder if I could explain how many separate thoughts I have about the same fucking topic, if somehow everything would just make more sense? To me, I mean.
And yes, I know, that makes no sense at all.
Some of the random shit going through my head right now for example…
*** I find myself removing IF blogs from my reader once the blogger gets pregnant. I have a hard time with them because I’m just not there and there are enough pregnancies/parents around me that I’m actually invested in (i.e. good friends/family) that I don’t feel the need to follow the pregnancy of someone who is, for all intents and purposes, a total stranger. I torture myself more than enough without that. At the same time, I find it’s also difficult to read the posts by women who feel they have come to a point where they have to accept that they will never be mothers. Those are hard to read because I’m so fucking afraid that that will be me someday. That all hope will be lost and I’ll have to simply accept that I will never experience that part of life that we are instinctually built to want. (After all that is the purpose of sex right? And we know we all want THAT so…) I still force myself to read those blogs though. I can’t stop myself. What does that say?
*** I think I’m depressed. I know you’re probably thinking that, that’s not news. I tend to write here mainly when I’m upset, so it probably seems like there are no ups and downs, but I really was starting to feel better after the holidays had passed. I was starting to eat and sleep better, I started exercising, my energy levels were feeling pretty good…after that doctor appointment though…I feel like I kind of just gave up. It didn’t help that it coincided with that nightmare daytrip to LA (which turned into a late-night trip) so I don’t honestly know what it is, but I haven’t been able to shake this feeling of exhaustion since around that time. One night I got six straight hours of sleep and then fell right back asleep for another solid hour and a half and I still woke up feeling like I hadn’t slept at all. (Normally I don’t sleep for more than three hours without at least waking up briefly.) So I’m actually sleeping relatively better than normal but I feel tired all the time anyway. I’m not really eating again. And also not exercising. My joints hurt. I’m tired. It’s cold. Blah, blah, blah.
*** It bothers me. This feeling of isolation. Of so few people really knowing what this feels like. Sometimes I imagine myself standing in the middle of an empty field, screaming at the top of my lungs. Even in my head, it feels so…liberating. Honest. Does this make me (sound) crazy? I do understand, though, why people can’t know. People get pregnant on accident every day. It is supposed to be easy. It’s how the human race has managed to survive this long, isn’t it? That also makes me want to scream.
*** I told Paul the other day that I have been struggling with wondering whether or not God really always has a plan. See, I’m not questioning whether or not God exists, I still believe wholeheartedly that He does, but I am starting to think maybe He isn’t watching everything as closely as we’d like to believe. I don’t know. I can’t say I’m sure of that either, though. It’s just that when you very badly want to be able to carry your husband’s child after spending your life doing most things “right” (i.e. finishing high school, undergrad & grad school, getting married to a good man, getting into a good company & career path, buying a home big enough to “grow” into) it feels like there must not be anyone paying attention when there are babies being aborted every day. Or babies that are born and abused or killed. I mean, really? I would be a worse parent than the people who are doing those things? Challenge. Sometimes life just sucks and isn’t fair, and maybe God doesn’t have to have a hand in that? Except, I don’t know that I find that to be a comforting thought either. I’ve always found it comforting to know that whatever was happening and how bad it sucked that there must be a reason for it all in the end. I’m not sure I feel that way anymore and I feel lost without it.
*** Christians will often pray to be “broken.” (Don’t think I really hear it used much outside of that context?) It’s the only way I can think of to describe how I’m feeling, but I don’t really mean it that way either. I just sort of feel plain old broken. Broken inside. Physically, mentally. And probably, let’s face it, spiritually too. Sometimes I fixate on that word. Broken. As though there’s a little devil sitting on my shoulder, whispering the word into my ear to make sure I don’t forget I am broken. Where’s the angel?
*** Sometimes when I hear people discuss how physically difficult pregnancy is, I am painfully aware of how I have had almost every single “awful” symptom of a typical pregnancy (and perhaps even of a lot of the difficult ones) and I didn’t even get a bundle of joy to bring home at the end of it. Based on the amount of swelling and water retention during the last two flares, I feel I am owed at least two already. Gaining 30lbs, nausea, anemia (= exhaustion), feet so swollen they don’t fit in your shoes, aching lower back (not to mention pretty much any joint you can imagine and some that you probably don’t know can ache like the one in your chest), high blood pressure, leaky kidneys…am I missing anything? I mean that sincerely, I’m not saying it to be snarky, it’s just that between the side effects from the meds and the lupus itself, I’ve experienced a lot of crappy pregnancy-like symptoms. And I do agree that they suck. But it sucks even worse to have nothing to show for it at the end.
Clearly I could keep this going forever, such is the state of mind I’ve been in since my doctor had his poorly thought out adoption talk with me. But I think you get the point. This is why I’ve been so quiet. Because there is no continuity to me at all right now. In fact I’m kind of liking the stars, hmm….
Anyway, time to go pick up the husband as he is pretty much my last lifeline to sanity. Or something like it.