Life often puts you in positions that force you wonder where you went wrong… A life that drives you to search for an exit, a way out, an answer, an “acceptable” justification for the path you’re on. Or, at the least, a promise of something greater in the future.
The funny thing now is that I’m learning that there truly is a promise of something greater that most definitely won’t come in this lifetime. And, I’m eternally grateful for that promise. Although, I’d like to enjoy some greatness, here, on this Earth, fairly soon.
I hate the person this curse tempts me to be. I hate the sensitivity. The awkwardness when ppl ask about babies and I have to answer questions about trying and explaining the infertility (which I think is important to talk about. Obviously.) I hate fighting feelings of jealousy and having to get over myself and my own issues in order show genuine excitement for another the way I truly want to.
I. hate. this.
I hate the little anythings that trigger the tears I regularly have to fight in public and even sometimes at home so my husband won’t think I’m a flapjack who needs to be committed even more so than I’m sure he thinks already!! I hate the cramping and irrational moodiness that comes with yet another cycle. I hate fighting through anger and frustration, forcing myself to be kind instead of lashing out, I hate hurting others and having to apologize when I fail miserably at keeping control of my feelings. I hate that this blog is centered around desperation and sadness. That there is no promise of children with our own DNA code after these last two cycles of treatment. I hate that I’m terrified to try. I hate looking around and realizing that I’m watching a mother or child while wondering “Will I ever…”
I hate that we are like so many others who are unable to fund tens and hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of treatments/possibilities and how these last two treatments will be the end of the road for us. I hate the reality of not being able to and having to fight these temptations and frustrations until. I hate that I literally laugh at (my own) jokes of looking for abandoned babies at fire stations and churches. It’s inappropriate yet oddly funny (to me) but, um…. The idea of lucking up on a (free) child looks pretty great from where I’m sitting.
I hate the pity. The looks of just pure pity could quite possibly be more frustrating than the circumstance.
It’s funny how so many things can be going so well in life but if one major piece is out of place…………..
I hate that I know that the best thing to do is to deal with it straight on…… No running. No distractions. No temporary fixes. Nothing but complete and utter acknowledgement. Leaves you in a dark place. Lots of alone time to think and process. Lots of denying yourself other things that are the very opposite of what you’d much rather be doing.
I hate the amount of effort it takes to practice self discipline and will power against those things. I hate that these desires won’t ever go away. That I have to deal with this forever. And more and more questions the longer we’re married and the older I get.
I hate that there is no promise.
But, I’m glad that my misery hates company. That I love to pity party alone. And, I’m never here for long.