The Dreaded

I sit here, finally less writhing in pain than yesterday and about 1/8 of the pain from Saturday.

The emotional "damage" may be far more hurtful than the physically. I feel so utterly... discouraged. And perhaps with no proper place for it. But perhaps with much appropriation for it.

The physical pain... Ugh. Horrendous. At times unbearable. I feel so... I feel so... unworthy. Not sure that was even the word I was expecting my fingers to find and type next, but it fell oh so easily. I feel as if I am a failure in yet another point in my life. I feel so unattractive, physically, and simply the mere proximity of my being. I.... I scream utter bitch mixed with overly emotional wreck, mixed with avoidant.

...I knowwww right? Yuck!

I do, however, find temporary peace when I allow myself the "pleasure" of certain realities.
Gosh, such a half empty girl these days.
Not. What. I. Expected. At. This. Time. In. My. Life.
Ignoring. Hiding. Secluding. Raging. Crying. Wondering. Ohhhh all of the "what if's" hahahahaha.

I literally want to find a cave... (Hmm,  a well lite cave ;) ) and plop myself over dramatically in it while screaming obscenities at the top of my lungs. Yep, that is what my heart yearns for right now... >:/ Hm

Instead looming bills, unanswered questions, and the inevitable and perpetual "self-loathing" dwell and greet me upright each day.

Don't get me wrong. I am a blessed blessed blessed girl. I appreciate my family and friends and new husband. I have so many things I literally do not deserve. That's the awesome part.

The not so awesome part is knowing that and still finding myself stuck in this.. Oh let's call it something nameable and easy like stuck in this "rut."

The physical pain... Yes, it is overwhelming. Knowing it is directly connected with conception.... Well that is something a little less "conceivable" to deal with.
From the time I can remember, as a young girl, I remember claiming I wanted 12 kids. As I got older I saw the reality in that and reduced my number to 5. Now.... I'd take one. One healthy baby. One pregnant experience. One month of feeling totally unattractive and fat and not being able to touch my toes. 9 months of everyone looking at me like a woman who did something. Moments with my beautiful husbands hand on my belly as we experience something together... The movement of a life inside me. The first moment after birth of holding the baby. MY baby. OUR baby. Looking at his...(her...) features guessing who they came from. A lifetime of trials praying and hoping we are making the right moves. Being that soccer mom...basketball, football, even baseball, T-ball, even....cheerleading ;) cheering my baby along and supporting. I want the hard times and unbelievable indescribable times. I want them all. And I want them with Jamere.
So many wonderful people having babies. I got what many do not always find, or don't have right now "true love." I am so blessed. But even that.... Even that has the scary side. The experiences that are not easy. Things that you dare not mention. The fears.... etc.
Nothing is ever perfect. We hear that our whole lives. Yet, at a young age I remember hearing over and over from coaches etc that "practice makes perfect"... Well, have I not practiced? Am I in fact not quite good enough?
These are the questions racing through my mind. I hear the many contradicting voices, encouraging me and softly saying only the opposite could be true.
But as I sit here, enjoying the heat from my laptop on my aching ovaries, I can't help but wonder if I will get to experience these things.
I don't have one strike, but 2 major strikes and maybe even a 3rd small one. Endometriosis "Oh! My blah blah has that and had 452 children!!!" ........ Ok. PCOS.... A little more serve. "Ohhh well I think I have heard of that! You can use fertility drugs!!!"
Why the fuck would I wanna do that???? And end up w/ quintuplets that aren't healthy...? I think of all my dumb ass decision making and wonder how I never got pregnant. I wonder if this is perhaps my punishment even?
Although... I know my God. I know He doesn't work like that. And I also know He provides miracles. And I also know that Jamere and I would be beyond wonderful parents and that us raising and bringing children into world would only better it.... But I also know we could do that by adopting. There is just something about having your "own" child... Bearing a child.... Damnit, I don't need to feel guilty for wanting that.

I read online today about...well a lot of crap. One woman wrote about trying to get pregnant over and over again and her miscarriages bc of PCOS... Other women chimed in sympathizing and exclaiming the same experiences. Everyone gathering exclaiming their pain; physical and emotional.
I don't wanna be that woman. I also don't wanna project the future and waste energy on projecting future negativity.
But I still cannot help my sentiment. I still cannot stop my thoughts... Or this fucking horrible pain writhing through my body. Shooting from my leg into my ovaries, pelvis, abdomen, and back. It pierces through my head and into my heart.
I feel utterly depressed. I do not feel like moving. I hurt. I don't feel like talking. I don't feel like explaining. I don't feel like energizing; energizing you or me. I want to lay here. Lay and cry. But not think.
There is so much on my heavy heart. It goes so much deeper than this. How I do explain? How do I profess my innards? How do I describe, what I can't say?
:/

The Newest Chapter

There are so many "firsts" in our lives.

First day of school. First kiss. First love. First drink of alcohol. First job.


There are so many parts of life that are "forever" things. Our first names. Love for family members. DNA.
There are these "goals" that come with each step... to achieve that "thing." One step leading to another. Stringing us along to the "end;" The all encompassing, inevitable, overall goal or milestone.

As we travel between steps, there seem to be moments; "in between" moments. Almost like an awkward silence in a conversation. Unsure what to do or how you should feel in that moment. Uncomfortable with the present moment, but simultaneously harboring comfort in knowing the moment will be over soon and perhaps forgotten.
Once the next step is attained it's usually so fulfilling. Leading to hope of grasping the next thing in life.

Personally... I have always sucked with change. I love nothing more than comfort. The comfort found in consistency or even the sometimes unfavorable predictability. We never want too much of that it seems, but enough to know everything is going to be okay; okay tomorrow and the following day. When my equilibrium is thrown off with the unbalance of uncertainty, or even newness, I get terrified.

This is perhaps an insanely vague way of expressing myself... And I like it. In fact I love it. Because I get to experience the effective relief found from writing, while protecting myself from the exact thoughts and emotions I've been avoiding. And the obvious: the "ambiguous" reader doesn't know the details of my life.

Ah... I feel like I just took a shot... Or a shit. Both can be equally relieving....
That's the funny thing about blogs... We write; us "bloggers." We supply our "guts" to what may or may not be an unknown audience. We write for some sort of companionship or feedback or something!... I personally don't want feedback or responses. But damn, I guess there is a reason that I am writing a blog verses with a pen and paper or just a word document. My "companionship" from writing is the echo of my words and what I could maybe declare as thoughts on a piece of something like paper in front of me.... Such relief in it. Grounding. Tangibility. Sanity. Empowerment from witnessing "my" words run across a page, when typically upon the initiation of writing I have no idea what exactly I'm thinking or feeling..
Yeahhh that's all I got.