Again, I can’t properly express my gratitude for all of you and your unwavering support. I appreciate you all so much, I appreciate your understanding, your validation, your caring and your concern. I also appreciate your insight. Again and again you ask the important, difficult questions, prompting me to look harder at why I feel the way I do. This time it was Serenity who hit the proverbial nail on the head with this comment (I’m only including part of it here):
If I were my therapist (trust me, I’m not, my therapist has a new baby!), I’d ask you why you feel so insecure within this community when you’re clearly someone who contributes, who posts thoughtful entries, who rallies around other bloggers and offers love and support. It strikes me that you play the IF Pain Olympics as self-punishment.
First of all I wonder if your therapist and my therapist are in a therapist-mommy group together somewhere because mine just had a baby too – at 37 she got pregnant on the first month trying. But it’s cool. I’m not envious. At all.
But back to the real meat of that comment. Why do I torture myself with the Pain Olympics? Why did I write those posts?
In a word, guilt. Horrible, gut wrenching, unfailing guilt. I feel so incredibly guilt for the relative ease with which I have built my family. I feel immense shame for the way I’ve struggled so much with difficulties that pale in comparison to what other members of the community face. I loathe how gracelessly I’ve dealt with the hand I’ve been given–when it’s not even that bad a hand! I hate that I’m on the unfair side of the divide. That I’m the one almost EVERYONE here can look to and think, it’s so unfair. Why her and not me?
I feel so fucking guilty about it.
And I know it doesn’t do anyone any good to feel guilty, especially over something for which I have NO CONTROL. But I don’t know how to let go of my guilt. I don’t know how to set it free.
One of things I have most appreciated about this dialogue is the assurance that I am not alone in feeling alone. And while it makes me so sad to think that the one thing that unites us all is that we feel alone, it is also comforting. To know that I’m not the only one who feels that isolation, actually makes me feel less isolated. If that makes any sense.
I’m having a really hard time right now (SHOCKER!). I keep wavering between announcing a period of radio silence here while I get my shit straight or, well, just continuing to putter along, writing my sad sack posts and feeling crappy about it later. I honestly don’t know what to do. I am planning to start an intensive mindfulness meditation program this week, but honestly I don’t know how much it can help me. I’m planning on giving it 4-8 weeks (if after four I still feel this bad I’ll scratch it for now, if at that point I’m feeling better, I’ll keep it up for four more weeks) before I call my psychiatrist. The truth is I can’t keep this up for much longer. The lows are getting so low. And it’s not just about TTC. In fact, more than anything it’s about work and how incredibly impossible it seems, how just writing that sentence makes me cry. I can’t keep living day to day like this, feeling this weight crush down on me. It’s just too much. I need support. And even if I get pregnant, that weight will still be there. In fact, it will be work, because I will be dealing with the physical difficulties of pregnancy, which will make work even more unbearable.
So I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’m that girl on the playground crying in a heap, causing everyone to come over and ask if she’s okay even though all she did was skin her knee. I HATE being that kid. That girl was NOT TOLERATED in my mother’s household and I’m ashamed of being her.
That’s me. Ashamed and guilty. What a great combination! No wonder I’m such a ridiculous mess.