Thank you all so very, very much for your thoughtful and heartfelt comments. They did so much to lift me up and I was struck by the fact that people in real life, who’ve had so much easier a time of it than I, can belittle my struggles telling me I don’t have it so bad, while those in this community who have struggled so much longer and harder than I can validate those same struggles, even though comparatively, I don’t have it that bad at all. It’s so backward, that those who struggle less than me ignore my struggles while those who have struggled infinitely more acknowledge and validate them. It just shows how much empathy and compassion going through IF and loss can bestow upon a person. Truly, it is an awe inspiring thing.
It felt good to write that post. It felt good to figure what was bothering me and then it felt good to write. The realization actually came to me after talking to my mom. I told her about our most recent failed attempt, the scheduled RE appointment at Kaiser (we actually have to take a class first and I scheduled the farthest one out–in late November–because that just felt like the right move), my fear and sadness and disappointment, all of it, and she was so amazing. She just listened and acknowledged how I felt, and how shitty it was, and how shitty it had been for her. It was so incredible, how amazing that short conversation felt, how light my steps as I walked away. All that from just being heard. And in that midst of that good feeling, it was suddenly achingly clear why I had been so mad.
And then I wrote that post. And I felt better.
I must seem like such a whiny bitch to you all, especially you seasoned veterans. I moan on and on about eight months like it’s eight years. And there are people who reach out to me who’ve struggled for three or four or five or more times as longer, who have suffered so much more and are still waiting for their (living) children, who reach out to me. It’s humbling and it gives me perspective. The truth is, I don’t know why I handle this all so poorly.
Except that I do know. I just sometimes forget.
I miss my meds. Oh my god how I miss them. Writing that just brought tears to my eyes. I’m fucking crying I miss my meds so much. I miss how much better I feel on them. I miss how much more in control of my life I am when I’m on them. I miss how nothing feels as daunting when they are helping me out. I miss them so fucking much.
And not being on them is a BIG reason why this journey has been so hard for me. And an even bigger reason why I’m so fucking mad and frustrated that I’ve spent the last eight months not taking them and for no fucking reason at all.
I really, REALLY want to go back on my meds. And of course pregnancy and breastfeeding are great reasons to not be on them. But TTC? Not a fucking great reason to not be on them. Not a great reason at all.
And I know I could go on something, and honestly, if I thought anything that I could go on would make me feel a fraction of as whole and capable as what I take makes me feel, I’d do it. But I just don’t have faith that they will, and so I don’t really think that for me, it’s worth it. At least not yet.
But man, this fog of depression, the distraction and confusion of ADD, it just sucks the life right out of me. And it makes me handle everything in this epically awful way and the most sinister part is I FORGET that I’m making such a shit show of everything BECAUSE of the not being on my meds, so I just heap all this blame and guilt on myself and it just makes everything worse. It’s a vicious fucking cycle and it’s exhausting to break it. I just don’t have it in my most days.
So yeah. Just a reminder to me, to all of you dear readers, that a lot of the douchbaggery you’re reading on here is just a poor girl missing her prescription and feeling cheated that she can’t fucking take it because she may get pregnant except that she never fucking gets pregnant. A girl who’s angry that she’ll never get the last eight months of her life back, and that is was lost to a fog of depression and mind-fuckery because her asshole body can’t perform the most basic of human functions. Because, for all intents and purposes, it seems to be a useless, broken excuse of a female reproductive system.
So yeah. Just throwing that out there for all of our sakes, lest we think that the woman on these pages is an accurate representation of who I am. Because she’s not. Or maybe she is? I don’t know. All I know is I like the me on meds MUCH better than this me. She is way cooler to hang out with, way chiller to share headspace with, and way more interesting to read.
Hopefully, she’ll be back relatively soon. Or hopefully I won’t be so resentful that she’s away because I’ll finally be fucking pregnant.