I’ve been there. I’ve been to the point of giving up…and beyond. I’m still going.
I question myself sometimes because it’s often easier for me to just keep living this monotonous life without children. After an emotional year full of drugs, hope, happiness and bitter defeat, I mourned. Then I moved on. I buried the pain on a daily basis and found it easier to breathe if I didn’t think about it. I actually put it off longer than medically necessary because I was more scared at that point of feeling the pain again than of living without a child. But the desire is still there. It creeps in. Then the excitement creeps in. The inevitable disappointment every month. The jealousy of other’s joy. The pain of a passing date. I’m not together ALL the time.
I realized that I’ve harbored all those emotions in a calm port…with a hurricane right offshore. Occasionally a gust blows in, but the sun is still shining with increasing turbulence brewing.
I captain a ship of strength for the world to see. I pat the knees of my friends as they go through the raw emotions and I want to help them because I’ve been there. I offer advice of how to cope to those suffering with IF, PCOS and loss. But I’m a FRAUD.
I’m not this strong. There are just places inside me that are dead. They’ve been repressed and buried so long that half the time I don’t remember how to grieve or feel. I hold myself up to this standard of strength. I can’t allow myself to show weakness and vulnerability.
I’ve always been the strong one. The Ice Queen has nothing on me. I’m the one friends run to to defend them, to stand up for them. If someone needs a body buried (figuratively speaking), I’m the girl that borrows a truck, drives out to nowhere, digs the hole, dumps it in, covers it with Lyme and disposes of evidence in a methodical manner. I’m the girl that looks the cop in the eye with a quirked eyebrow and says “he’s missing? REALLY? Well we should have seen that one coming. Check in Mexico.”
Inwardly, I’m LT. DAN strapping myself to the mast in a storm screaming at God. But I had that even from myself. I rarely show it. I show the strength to continue on despite missing my legs (or more accurately my heart). I try and comfort those around me with alcohol and whores (too far with the Forrest Gump references? Okay). But I wonder if I’m living a lie. Is this who I am? Why do I not want to show the world my pain? Except in snippets. I don’t mind looking occasionally schizophrenic but heave forbid I show my weakness and pain too often.
I often look at other people and question their level of pain. Are they over exaggerating for a myriad of reasons I make up in my own head. Please don’t hate me for saying this but I compare them with me. Of course, I see my situation as worse than some and say “how come they don’t have it together like me? They are ridiculous and petty.” I make my emotional repression into a martyr. AND I’m WRONG! It has nothing to do with anyone else. It has to do with my stupid emotional repression. The forcing of myself to be strong, to hide my pain when I can, to keep going on for others, to “get over it already”.
I don’t regret being strength to others, even if sometimes I fake it. I love all my friends and will be there through their hard times: divorce, fights, IF, foreclosure, etc. And when I give them a chance, they are always there for me.
Sometimes I stumble along the way in my journey. I jump off the path because I’m scared. I’m scared I won’t make it through more pain or the unknown. I’m trying really hard to take my own advice-to let go and FEEL and keep chasing your dreams.
I don’t want to give up. I don’t’ want my friends to give up. I want to continue to be a pillar of strength but I need to learn how to let go and not always play it off. (and I’m not there because I don’t want to talk about this with any of you reading it..LOL)
I show more emotion HERE and to those who know me online then to those who only know me IRL. I’m closer emotionally and more truthful to those online and those IRL who got to now me online.
The one instance of REAL life emotion is sitting on the floor of one of my Best Friend’s new kitchen unpacking her pots and pans with her and my other BFF and I lost it. I just sat there and cried with both of them holding me a month after my M/C.
AND I APOLOGIZED! That image sticks with me. It sneaks up and bites me on the ass and says “what’s your problem.” Maybe if you weren’t such a hardened bitch you could get pregnant. And then the other voice comes in and says “but if you never do at least you will have protected yourself and hardened yourself against the daily hell that is IF.”
I don’t have the answers. I act like I do. Some days are good days, some days I am truly excited about life and enjoying the things I set out to do. I truly care about all of you. It’s ME I lie to. It’s ME I pretend that everything is okay no matter what happens. And it is not. But I’m not giving up yet. I haven’t crossed that bridge of deception with myself and I continue to fight for my dreams, through the haze of disappointment.