I didn’t realize just how awful last week was until we were scrambling down the too-steep path into the canyon this weekend and we rounded a bend and the view opened up and I just stopped. And breathed. And soaked in the sight. As I stood there staring out across a vast and impossible distance to our eventual destination below and the peaks beyond, something clicked in my head and I realized how good I felt. My head pounded from heat and dehydration and my shoulders smarted from the weight of my pack, but I no longer felt like every twinge was an omen of hopelessness. I was free of worry and my heart was once again open.
I turned to my wife at that point and told her that if I started acting crazy again, she just needed to drive me six hours north and go on a seven hour hike. Or, you know, maybe just around the corner at home and a 30min sunset hike. They’re pretty equivalent. Right?
I still don’t know what my body is doing. We’re either on DPO 11 or CD 10. But I’ve gotten to a point where I’m okay with not knowing. I may or may not test at the end of this week, but I have decided we’ll wait until the last week of May/June and see where my cycle is then. Give it time to figure itself out and restart from the beginning.
I never would have thought that the process could be so stressful so early. I read about people months and years down the line and their struggles and I think yes, of course it’s horrible then, but not the first few tries. It triggered my anxiety and depression in a bad way and so now I need to focus on just taking care of myself for a few weeks. That means backing off on the TTC blogs and blogging, I think. I hate that I’m apparently this sensitive, but it’s not exactly something I can pretend doesn’t exist.
In the meantime, lots of hikes. Lots of friends. Lots of writing and photography and cat petting. Maybe some baked goods. Lots of positive thinking and dreaming.