Well, I’m screwed. It’s 12:30AM and I am up. Because I went to bed just before 7pm, and that is a little early even by my standards (yes it is a Saturday night and you don’t have to tell me, I know I live an extremely glamorous life and you are so jealous right now).
The good news is that I think I am getting sleepy again. Which I realize only makes my life sound even sadder.
When I woke up at midnight, one of the reasons I couldn’t go back to sleep is because I immediately started thinking about “the m situation” and sleep was not going to happen. (The “m” stands for a word that I strongly associate with that time in my life, one that I still have a reaction to every time I hear it, much to my chagrin).
It drives me nuts because I know exactly what my twisted little brain is doing. The m situation was the last time in my life where I felt really wounded by something, as though something inside of me was now broken. The only other time where I’ve felt so completely powerless over something that had such a direct impact on my life. The only other time where it didn’t matter how much I wanted, or hoped, or wished, or endeavored, what I wanted was going to be taken away from me and there was nothing at all I could do about it.
It taught me that it doesn’t always matter how hard you work at something or how badly you want it.
Don’t get me wrong, most of the times when you work really hard for something, you will eventually succeed.
But there are things that are out of your control.
That you can pour your entire heart and soul into, and still fail miserably at attaining.
Sometimes, it’s just not up to you. Sometimes there’s just nothing you can do to change someone else’s feelings. Sometimes there’s just nothing you can do to make your body stop attacking your kidneys (c’mon body, really? aren’t we all on the same team here?).
Clearly, the m situation is kind of a perfect metaphor for what’s going on right now. My mind prefers to process a situation I’ve already done a post-mortem on and know I can move on from, as opposed to something that I really want right now and am now truly afraid I might never have. Something, that I’m really not sure I will ever be able to move on from.
And I still can’t make myself feel much over the realization that (if all goes according to plan) it will be over two years since we first decided that we’d like to start trying soon. That if we were a “normal” couple, or to be more specific, if I were a normal person, and we had started trying last June when we first talked about it we could have a baby, like now.
Instead, I’m sitting here, waxing nostalgic, blogging in a tired but not sleepy haze as I consider taking ambien to ensure that I do not completely get my schedule turned upside down.
No one other than myself (and the hubs, but he’s fast asleep!) to take care of at the moment.
But I suppose that’s step one.