No. Seriously. Stop.
I just want to have a normal conversation and not see hints of sadness and pity in your eyes. There is no room left at the kick ass pity party I'm throwing for myself. So take your wine and your gentle words the GTFO.
I want to get through one day, just ONE day, where I don't want pull your sad eyes out of your head. You know who you are. My friend, my family member, my co-worker. It's not that I don't love you. I do. And I know you love me and that's what brings us to sad eyes. But seriously. You're not helping. Not any more.
This thing I'm going through, you don't get it. I know you don't get it. I hope you never get it. I don't want you to EVER be in the same boat I am. And that's okay. But stop being sad for me. Help me change my perspective. Let's celebrate the things that are going right! Let's take joy in what I have been doing for myself and not dwell on the heartbreak that got me here. God, let's be ecstatic that we didn't freeze our nuts off this weekend. Whatever we celebrate, let's do it without the sad eyes.
Actually, let's just not talk about me at all. That would be great. We can cover the peripheral stuff: work, house, car, weather. Let's just leave those top layers on though. I'm okay with it. I'm comfortable enough with myself that I don't need to talk about my problems all the goddam time. And if I do want to talk about them, please find my pragmatism refreshing and honest, and don't perceive it as me trying to hide something, or putting on a "brave face". Fuck that shit. I'm an adult, dealing with a very adult issue. You know me well enough to know that I will tell you what you need to know, when you need to know it, and I'm okay dealing with adversity. I am just so over talking about my feelings with you. I'm over trying to explain where my head is at, because it is so far from anywhere you've been that it just doesn't matter. I have zero expectations that you can look at me and honestly say "I understand". That's fine.
But...if you insist on giving me sad eyes, do me a favour, would you? Stop trying to fix me. I've got that part covered. I'm doing my very darndest to fix me and I don't need anyone else doing that for me. I know. You're being a good friend, family member, whatever, you care, you love me. But this journey is for me to take. Not you. Me. It's cold and lonely out here, but I have to do it on my own. Like some sort of vision quest, but my only guide is me, and I can check in with one person only, and I love you, but it's not you.
I'm not saying you can't feel sorrow for me (I would question our relationship a lot if you didn't actually). Do that, but be constructive about it. I need you to take me out of these dark moments, throw a little sunshine my way, remind me that life carries on. If you find yourself feeling sad for me, be happy with me instead.
And understand something else, in case it hasn't become clear yet. This is a very alienating thing to go through. I literally, have no one to talk to, to commiserate with. No one to ask if what I'm feeling is normal. If the hostility I have towards sad eyes, or my body is normal. And the only person who has a hint of what I'm experiencing first hand, experienced it in a completely different way. So that's not entirely helpful either.
So, I love you. So much. My life wouldn't be what it is without you. And I am so glad to know that you care so much about what's going on with me. You are truly wonderful. But seriously, stop it with the eyes. Let me enjoy my party of one. Let me be angry, and sad and overjoyed and underwhelmed. And make yourself the joy in my life. Let's just talk about you.
Saturday, 8 March 2014
Thursday, 27 February 2014
I've Got Feels
It's been 16 months since the worst day of my life. 16 months since my life changed forever. 16 months since I started the hardest, most personal journey I've ever been on. 16 months of heartbreak and stress and tears and very little laughter and happiness. I'm exhausted.
16 months ago, I miscarried my child. I was 12 weeks and it was right after thanksgiving. We were getting ready to tell the family. Getting ready to start buying all those fun things that go along with being pregnant. We were excited and were overflowing with joy. And just like that it was over.
In the moment we were very pragmatic about the whole thing. This happens to so many families. We aren't the only ones. We'll get pregnant again. But I tell you what...I have never felt so alone in my entire life. No one can say anything to make you feel better. No one can take away the emptiness that you carry with you each day. The pang of hurt you feel each time you see a beautiful pregnant woman, or that precious new baby. It stays with you. Always.
You go through life each day with this shadow on your shoulder and in your heart. No one can see it, no one knows it's there. It's a burden you carry silently. And even if you are able to talk about it, unless the person you are speaking to has been there, they don't get it. They do their best to provide you with comfort and words of wisdom, but what do they know? And then you stop talking to them about it, because you can see that they don't know what to do or say, that they are running out of patience and are frustrated as well. They mostly want you to be successful just so you'll stop talking about it. I can't say I blame them. It's hard thing to deal with regardless of what side of it you're on.
And really, it's not like we haven't been trying. Predictor kits, daily temperatures, doctor's appointments. No answers from anyone. Hell, I had a doctor tell me that trying for a year was equivalent to the feeling you get after a four day cold. It's annoying but not the end of the world and there's no point in getting upset about it. Well fuck that guy. I'm on the waitlist to get in to the fertility clinic, but that's 6 months just to get a phone call. So here I sit, waiting. I feel like I'm waiting for a miracle.
Recently, I found out that my sister-in-law and best friend are expecting. I am over the moon for them, I really am. These are two women that are going to make amazing mothers and I can't wait to see them start this part of their lives. But what the fuck.
I recognize that their triumph is not a reflection of my failures. These are two separate things. But my yoga teacher asked me the other day how I felt about it. How I really felt. My answer? I'm pissed. I'm just so mad. Not at them. It's not their fault I'm struggling. I'm pissed at the situation. What makes everyone else so special? Why isn't it me? Why do i have to be the one to go through mind melting periods of resentment and sadness every month? What did I do to deserve this?
At least I have Chris. Bless my husband. He's the most wonderful, patient, wonderful man I could ever imagine. I'm so glad he's mine. He is just such a solid part of my life. This guy has been unwavering in his support of me during this whole ordeal. The breakdowns in the middle of the night, the mood swings, the ups and downs of everything, and managing his own feelings about all of it. This guy hasn't stumbled. Love him.
So what's next? This is really a hurry up and wait game. Always waiting. Wondering what each month will bring. Hoping that this time it will be different. That this time we will be able to take the steps to move forward and celebrate again. But we'll get there. I know we will. One way or another we will be parents and we will rock it.
16 months ago, I miscarried my child. I was 12 weeks and it was right after thanksgiving. We were getting ready to tell the family. Getting ready to start buying all those fun things that go along with being pregnant. We were excited and were overflowing with joy. And just like that it was over.
In the moment we were very pragmatic about the whole thing. This happens to so many families. We aren't the only ones. We'll get pregnant again. But I tell you what...I have never felt so alone in my entire life. No one can say anything to make you feel better. No one can take away the emptiness that you carry with you each day. The pang of hurt you feel each time you see a beautiful pregnant woman, or that precious new baby. It stays with you. Always.
You go through life each day with this shadow on your shoulder and in your heart. No one can see it, no one knows it's there. It's a burden you carry silently. And even if you are able to talk about it, unless the person you are speaking to has been there, they don't get it. They do their best to provide you with comfort and words of wisdom, but what do they know? And then you stop talking to them about it, because you can see that they don't know what to do or say, that they are running out of patience and are frustrated as well. They mostly want you to be successful just so you'll stop talking about it. I can't say I blame them. It's hard thing to deal with regardless of what side of it you're on.
And really, it's not like we haven't been trying. Predictor kits, daily temperatures, doctor's appointments. No answers from anyone. Hell, I had a doctor tell me that trying for a year was equivalent to the feeling you get after a four day cold. It's annoying but not the end of the world and there's no point in getting upset about it. Well fuck that guy. I'm on the waitlist to get in to the fertility clinic, but that's 6 months just to get a phone call. So here I sit, waiting. I feel like I'm waiting for a miracle.
Recently, I found out that my sister-in-law and best friend are expecting. I am over the moon for them, I really am. These are two women that are going to make amazing mothers and I can't wait to see them start this part of their lives. But what the fuck.
I recognize that their triumph is not a reflection of my failures. These are two separate things. But my yoga teacher asked me the other day how I felt about it. How I really felt. My answer? I'm pissed. I'm just so mad. Not at them. It's not their fault I'm struggling. I'm pissed at the situation. What makes everyone else so special? Why isn't it me? Why do i have to be the one to go through mind melting periods of resentment and sadness every month? What did I do to deserve this?
At least I have Chris. Bless my husband. He's the most wonderful, patient, wonderful man I could ever imagine. I'm so glad he's mine. He is just such a solid part of my life. This guy has been unwavering in his support of me during this whole ordeal. The breakdowns in the middle of the night, the mood swings, the ups and downs of everything, and managing his own feelings about all of it. This guy hasn't stumbled. Love him.
So what's next? This is really a hurry up and wait game. Always waiting. Wondering what each month will bring. Hoping that this time it will be different. That this time we will be able to take the steps to move forward and celebrate again. But we'll get there. I know we will. One way or another we will be parents and we will rock it.
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