I was okay earlier this week. I smiled and looked at the mountains and breathed in the crisp air and felt something, felt normal, felt joy, for the first time in too long.
I don’t know what changed. Or I do? And hope that’s not it?
Now I’m swimming in anxiety and feel like I’m choking and my chest is tight and someone has left their 1 ton weight on my sternum and tears are only a heartbeat away and I’m so. tired. of this, so. frustrated. I have literally changed everything in my life and it was getting better – is better, right now, right this moment – and yet.
Is this all just from TTC? Has this process broken me in ways that I’ll still be piecing together months, years, decades down the line? Or is this me? An inevitable piece of me that is expanding and expanding, relentless?
I guess I can only wait and see what March brings, when I will be done, done, done. Considering I was 100% ready to throw in the towel earlier this week, I can only imagine the relief I will feel then.
In light of all this, we might move up our possible start date. I talked with Lady a bit and she agreed with me that since my cycle is already trying to fuck things up, we might as well cushion our try with a few more weeks. Instead of January, we’re going to be ready to do this thing whenever the next cycle begins. Which, frankly, might be January. But that way I can stop worrying about the cycle after this next one, which could put us into February – or beyond.
That decision is helping me breathe a little bit better, but it’s hard not to just be so thoroughly frustrated with my body. Somehow, it always finds the perfect way to fuck things up. Or maybe I shouldn’t blame my body, but the universe at large, the evil future sky wizard, fate. I want control, but I have none.
The only way out is through.