It’s me again! Gosh, I shouldn’t make a habit out of this, should I?
Kidding! My journal, my rules.
I was sad today. I just don’t even know what I’m fighting for. What is the point in all of this. Something soul destroying and debilitating. Why am I doing this? And then once you’re pregnant, it doesn’t stop there. The fear, the anxiety, the non-stop worry. What is the point?
I can’t believe how something that is meant to be joyous and full of excitement has been ripped, stripped and flipped into something I want no part of.
I need to shower. But I don’t want to get out of bed. I’m looking for documentaries or movies about infertility so I can really bury deep into my sorrows and watch back the horror of what my life is, or at least a semblance of it. I just want to be sad. Be consumed in my infertility and think about nothing else. I want to drown in it and have it wrap it’s cold fingers around my throat until I can’t breathe because it fucking hurts so much. Pull out my hair and bind my wrists, my ankles, so that I can’t escape. Watch the nightmare unfold around me with fear in my eyes but not look away. I want to feel it all and know that it’s because I probably deserve it.
I can’t hide from it. Or ignore it. I can’t even pretend it isn’t there because I’m reminded of it every time my ovaries wail or my lining sheds. So I’ll let it take me. I’ll fall into it and I’ll live my pain with every unshared beat of my heart. I’ll cry because I can and I won’t even care because my tears deserve better. To be rid of a body that’s toxic in nature and damaging and damaged, yeah, they deserve better.
If this is my lot in life then so be it. Let’s get this pity party started.