It's been a few days since I've updated, but there isn't much going on that you already don't know.
I'm miserable. I'm still infertile. I'm still stressed. Yay for me.
Usually, I love preparing for Christmas-the whole ritual of dragging the tree and ornaments and holiday decorations up from the basement, buying a wreath from the church Caritas group and hanging it up on the house, shopping, preparing for concerts-it's comforting and familiar. Now, it just makes me sad and angry-what's the fucking point? I tell myself. Is there a point?
I see pregnant women and babies everywhere. I feel like that they're stalking me, mocking me with their bellies and Graco travel systems and diaper bags. It's like a blow to the side of the head sometimes. And, the shit kicker of it all is that, no matter where I go, from the mall to the post office to the women's public restroom, I can't escape them.
I feel like life is moving forward around me like a stream, and I'm stuck behind, like stagnant water-infected and unclean. I feel like the people I know look at me and think that I'm a failure for not being able to do the one thing that's supposed to be "natural" and "normal" to every woman. There are some days that I wish that I could just reach into my body and rip out my womb and thus release that contamination from me and make myself pure.
There are the okay days; the days that I don't have this baggage constantly buzzing through my head like a bee's nest, but those days are few and far between. More often than not, I feel such bitterness about all of this-that I can't get a break. I try nowadays to keep my mouth shut, because I'm afraid I'll say something that will give away just how much of a nasty bitch I am inside of my head.
The four weeks of Advent is a time, in the Catholic Church, of waiting, of expectation. We, as Catholics, are waiting for the announcement of the birth of the Messiah, the Chosen One. I feel this more so this year as in previous ones. I am in a constant state of waiting, of expecting something to happen that will miraculously change my situation. I feel as if I'm in Limbo, unsure of what the future holds for me. Is it my fate to die without seeing my children, or grandchildren? Is this the way it's supposed to be-just me and Sean and the cats, for the rest of my life? To know that what my life now is what it will be for the next 50 years or so? And, can I be satisfied with just that, and nothing more?
I don't know if I believe in miracles anymore. I'm too afraid to let that bitch Hope back in and believe that things will work out for me.
Sometimes I wish that I had the power to glimpse into the future. Maybe if I could, everything would be so different-the choices I made, the relationships I had. Maybe I wouldn't have taken so much for granted. I just wish that I knew what the future had in store for me and my fucked up reproductive system-it would save me from this constant uncertainty. I think that it would help me accept things more if I knew how they would end up.
Unfortunately, life's not like that-there's no way to predict the future. I was told one time, after expressing curiosity about seeing a psychic, that people who see into the future only see one path that your life can take-and that it's up to you to choose whether or not you want to go down that path. Would I have chosen the path that I'm now on? That's hard to say. In one sense, maybe-I don't think that I'd have the relationship with Sean I now have if this hadn't happened to me. I don't think that I'd realize just how badly I want my own children. But, truly, I don't want this cross to bear. I'm not a bad person, I didn't do anything horrible to deserve this pain and emptiness. So, why am I singled out to go through this? Why me, and not someone else? What is the reasoning in the Grand Scheme Of Things to make me barren?
They're questions that I can't wait to ask God one day. Hopefully by then I'd get a straight answer out of Him, since He doesn't seem to want to provide me with one right now.
Lately I feel much like a kid who's being bullied in the schoolyard-you know that kid, the one who doesn't quite fit in. Unfortunately, because they're "different", they get the shit kicked out of them, physically and psychologically. And, these kids begin to wonder if they really are the freaks that the bullies make them out to be. They start to believe the bad press.
I guess I 'm just tired of feeling like a freak, that I'm not like everyone else.
I just want to fit in.