As you all know, I’ve gone through my share of soul-searching this summer, especially as far as blogging is concerned. After several upsetting situations unfolded in my personal space, I wondered if I wanted to keep writing here.
And then, in the past week, I’ve been reminded of why I do this. I’ve been writing about all manner of things in the past month, and I’ve gotten some really amazing comments, comments that have changed the way I look at myself and my life, for the better. I’ve also read some post that have really spoken to me, and affected real, lasting, positive change in my life.
First, Serenity gave me wonderful advice on how to side step nuclear meltdowns after daycare pick up.
What we learned with out of control tantrums with Lucky?
Blood sugar. Not even kidding – it’s not the socializing, or the stress, or even the low on sleep, though all of that contributes. For us, it was simple blood sugar. Try a snack when you go for pickup: something with quick digesting sugars; graham crackers, animal crackers, Annie’s all natural fruit snacks.
Now I bring a pouch and crackers with me to every pick up and we’ve yet to have a two-hour tantrum like the ones that prompted the post she originally commented on. Serenity’s advice has improved the limited time I have with my daughter exponentially. I literally can’t thank her enough.
Then, quite a few people assured me that I am not a horrible mother for sending my daughter to 9+ hours of group care a day. While I knew this deep in my heart, it was so validating to hear. I really needed that.
IF has made me very self-centered, and for that, I feel guilty. … I hate this about myself – because it’s not about me. But I make it about me. Being jealous of pregnant people is ridiculous because they didn’t get pregnant AT ME – they just got pregnant. End of story. But I still take it personally. I take it very personally when they tell me it was an accident or that they aren’t excited about it. I need to work on this. I know that. I feel guilty about this all the time. I need to keep reminding myself that it is not about me – someone else’s fertility has nothing to do with my infertility.
I never really thought of it like that before, but I DEFINITELY take my über-fertile IRL friends’ pregnancies personally. Heck, I’m even mad at my therapist for getting pregnant and preventing me from being able to see her. But her pregnancy has nothing to do with me, neither does my cousin’s and our good friends’ and all the other people posting ultrasounds on Facebook. Their pregnancies have NOTHING TO DO WITH ME and I’d save myself a lot of grief if I could just remember that. So now, when I feel that dialogue starting in my head, I just repeat to myself, This is not about me. This is NOT about me. And you know what? It helps.
I also really appreciated Aeropolitan Comitissa‘s comment on my Social Media Phobic post. The more I read her comment, the more exaggerated my head nodding became.
I am very much NOT into facebook and twitter. Most of the reasons you’ve listed really don’t apply to me, but instead it comes down to this: too many words, too little conversation. It’s a picture of your ultrasound/holiday/cat with maybe ten words and I’m supposed to respond… how? I mean, yes, I know how I’m supposed to respond, but the truth is those sorts of interactions bring no joy to me at all. It’s a chore, an obligation. It’s an introvert thing.
I like to actually get below the surface with people. I like to spend uninterrupted time drawing out prolonged conversations on meaningful topics. I like to make time, and have time made for me. To me, this *is* human connection, and it’s satisfying and it brings me happiness. To other people, that type of interaction is dull, it’s a chore.
I too crave real human connections. I am most happy on Twitter or Facebook when I find a link to a blog post or interesting article. I want to delve deep into people’s lives, not just run my toes over the surface. I want to KNOW them, in the most complete sense possible, and Facebook and Twitter just don’t allow that to happen. There is a reason that I took so immediately, and completely to blogging. There is a reason I’ve written over 800 posts in three years; I love to write but I also love to share of myself and I love to share in other people’s lives as well. But I want what I read to be meaningful and Twitter and Facebook don’t provide that kind of connection. Having someone help me understand that about myself was so valuable to me. Now I KNOW why those sites bother me and why I have such an aversion to them. I know longer feel like something is wrong with me and it’s so much easier to make the best choice for me, understanding why I’m making that choice.
Most recently, today, right when I was feeling like a whiny bitch for posting that TTC rant, I got this comment from gypsymama, validating why I needed to put that out there.
Isn’t it so nice to have a blog where you can vent? Especially when your readers are people who truly understand because they are living or have lived the same reality. …
Yes, yes, YES! It is so nice to vent and it’s even nicer to know that the people who are reading it will understand. And it’s humbling to think they, like gypsymama, have probably been through much worse than I and yet will still show me compassion and understanding, and they might even reach out and provide some comfort, even when they themselves are struggling. How incredible is that?
Finally this after, in an attempt to be proactive, I finally checked out the prices at the acupuncture center by my new house. Man, oh man, that place is EXPENSIVE. And I was about to drive away pouting and sulking to myself when I remembered Keiko‘s recommendation (in an email to me) to search out acupuncture schools were I can get treated for a fraction of a price. Her advice gave me something new to try instead of feeling hopeless and sorry for myself and my financial constraints.
Writing this blog brings me so much, but sometimes I forget how much the people who read it give me. Seriously, I am indebted to all of you in ways I can’t articulate. You are delivering me through this difficult time with grace and understanding and for that I am forever grateful. Thank you all for you words of support and wisdom. Even if they weren’t mentioned here today, I promise you they were–and always will be–cherished and appreciated.