Ok I’ll admit it: I haven’t been around because I’ve been wallowing. It’s been a hard week, between the due date and this freaking diet.
But let’s be honest, it’s mostly the due date. I’ve been doing my best not to think about it, but even when not thinking about it I’m pretty mopey. I’m really hoping this will pass soon. I’m sick and tired of feeling this way.
In AF news – there is no news. I’m finishing up the pills today and hopefully that will jump start things. The baby psychic said July will be our month (though granted I thought she meant last july). So here’s hoping my skepticism will be challenged this month, and that freaking psychic was right after all.
Seriously guys – I’m so over this.
Now to the point of this post. I apologize in advance if this gets rambly. I’m trying to figure it out myself.
So yesterday I was at the shrink’s.
It’s funny – since I decided to break up with her our sessions have been amazing. Just bringing up what my problems with her have been opened me up to actually talking openly again. I’m not saying I’m no longer considering leaving her. But for now – we’re making some amazing strides.
Anyway – a big revelation I’ve had about the way I operate is this:
I spend all of my time dealing with the day-to-day issues in my life almost to the point of obsession. Whether it’s pee sticks, or obsessing about a project – I think about the details of the present but never the big picture. At least not the present big picture.
I compare it to a ramble of thoughts swirling around a black hole. That black hole being who “I really am”, which is something I haven’t explored in a very long time, if ever.
The problem is that black hole. It’s not filled with things I love, because I’m not sure what I love any more. It’s not full of my dreams and aspirations, because I’m not sure what those are any more outside of a baby. It’s full of grief, loss, anxiety, depression, fatigue, and self-loathing, and that’s why I stay away from it.
When I try to put the pieces of my identity together I feel like I don’t have a strand to grasp. I feel empty.
This is not a new thing. It started before the miscarriages. But the miscarriages threw it into sharp relief, because before – at least I had strands.
Now I have nothing, and I don’t know where to start.
Last night, my shrink asked a question that would finally give me a strand to grasp on to.
The question was:
“What if you don’t have a baby?”
I answered: “That isn’t an option.”
“I know that isn’t a real option. But I want you to think about it as an imaginary option. What would happen if you decide tomorrow that you will never have a child – not through adoption, or surrogacy, or pregnancy?”
“Well that’s a damn good question.”
So I’ve been mulling that over since then. I even talked it out with Shmerson a little bit.
Living child-free has never been a realistic option for us. But talking it over made me realize how different our decisions would be.
For example – I’m not sure if I’d be considering going back to school right now. Maybe eventually – but not necessarily now.
What would I do?
I don’t know. Make a lot of money so we could take that trip to Japan, or maybe make a movie. Take better care of my body, I think. Make sure to go to a lot more rock concerts.
I’m still mulling all of this over. I never thought it would be so hard to pinpoint my true core desires and ambitions. But the grief and the longing for a child have taken over so much of my life that there has been no room left for anything else. I’ve been going through the motions for so long that I have no idea what drives me any more.
Hopefully though, this question is the start of something.
It’s a strand I can begin to unravel, and I guess that’s as good a place as any.