Personal Purgatory

It's been really difficult for me to blog lately. Not because I hate people, or that I don't care about anyone else out there. But, it's getting hard to really express myself. Call it writer's block, perhaps; but for me there are so many emotions and monologues running around in my head that I'm afraid to let out, so as not to seem bitter, angry and.....well.........insane, really.

But it's also getting hard to keep all of this inside. Sooner or later it's going to explode, like a volcano. And, like a volcano, it will be impossible to clean up.

Since turning 35 about three weeks or so ago, the thought that perhaps this won't work out for me has been eating away at my psyche. There's been the various pregnancy announcements (two in the last month alone) and, although I am happy for those people, the bitterness that I feel rises up like bile in my throat and chokes back those good wishes. And then, I feel so guilty, because I can't understand why I just can't be happy for someone's good news without first thinking of my own pain. I feel so selfish and self-absorbed-like I can't be the better person. And then I feel even worse.

Some days I wake up and I'm okay-I don't think of my infertility every five minutes. Other days I wake up and go through the day waiting for the other shoe to drop, and I feel as if I have my guard up constantly so as to not feel the pain. Oftentimes, I wake up feeling numb, as if I'm just going through the motions. As if its one more day in the life sentence that is infertility, and that it ain't going to change anytime soon-sort of like an axe murderer on a life sentence without the possibility of parole. Except that axe murderer more than likely has children who'll visit once a month.

Our friends and family have stopped asking us about it, and, while it is a relief in some ways not to feel that pressure, I'm not sure that people not asking us is any better. Perhaps they're afraid to bring it up because they don't want to hear it, or hear more crappy news. Or, perhaps they've given up on us ever having children at all.

I think it hit home the most when I redid my blog template and went through my blogroll. Out of the people that I originally started this journey with, I am the last person left without children. In fact, the majority of the people there have their babies or are pregnant. And, that hurts like hell. I get so angry, not at the people who've moved on, mind you, but at God that he's left me alone. I've more than paid my dues. I've gone through hell with treatments and procedures, prayed, visited shrines, had the Evil Eye removed, bought energy beads, and all for nothing. And if one more person tells me to "think positive" and read that horrible Sec.ret book I'll rip their eyes out with a spork. Seriously. Why put me through all of this? Why show me everyone else who can have children, and leave me standing on my own? What's the point of that? What do I need to learn from this that I haven't already been taught, the hard way?

I feel that life is moving forward, and yet I'm being left behind. I don't feel as if I'm alive, just living day to day in a perpetual state of waiting, much like the souls in Purgatory that are waiting for redemption and acceptance into Heaven. All I know is that I'm 35 years old and the mother of none, and as that number creeps forward the possibility of motherhood gets slimmer. What do I have to show for it? A box of unused syringes, unused meds on the top shelf of our fridge, some alcohol swabs, and a lot of insurance receipts. That's all. No children's laughter in our home. Just an empty room in our house painted yellow and white in expectation of things that may never come to fruition. A room with a door that's now kept closed so we're not reminded of it's presence. So we don't hear it mocking us for painting it those colors to begin with, and for being so naive and optimistic when we should have been on our guard.

I really feel as if I'm drowning. What happened to the person I was before? Did that person really exist to begin with? How do I define myself if I can't be a mother? I don't know who I am anymore. And that scares the shit out of me.

See, I told you I'm going off the deep end.