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@bookishpaniclady
Infertility
Definition: “Not getting pregnant despite having carefully timed, unprotected sex for one year.”
Fun times. Especially secondary fertility because people see you have one kid already and say, “Oh, you can have another one easy peasy.”
Nope. Not that easy.
I’ve switched OBGYNs so hopefully we’ll figure out what’s up next month if it is me. If it’s not, husband can have himself checked out.
6 years
It was a miserable day. I got a call from my stepmom early that afternoon that my dad passed away. She wasn’t there for it; his employer insisted she come sort out paperwork in their office as he lay dying in their bedroom. Her mother had been there. I lived in Texas at the time.
The last day I saw him was my wedding day.
It all seems surreal and made up, like a tragedy in someone’s life. Yet when I come to this day every year, I know it’s my life this is taking place in and my reality reflecting his absence.
He would’ve been a wonderful grandfather.
Was he perfect? No, no one is. He held onto the past a lot. He was bitter about his daughters being uprooted at a young age to live many states away.
As a parent, I now understand what a tremendous loss it must have been. As a child, I didn’t know any better.
I have an immense amount of guilt and remorse over it all. I should’ve visited more often. I would have perhaps had a chance to say goodbye. I could’ve built a better relationship with my family.
Shoulda. Woulda. Coulda.
Now I just have to pick up the broken pieces of myself every year when this date rolls around. The grief no longer envelopes me; instead, it’s about the size of a scarf--still weighing heavily on my neck, but no longer choking my life out whenever this day arises.
It’s also a shit 2 week period where, years after, I was laid off from one job and fired from another. July does not bring with it good memories of these past few years.
I’m grateful for what I have, all things considered. As someone who tends to be cynical and focuses on the negative, this is the most positive I’ve felt about anything in a while.
I’m positive I’m leaving my job next winter because I can’t stand it.
I’m positive this change will bring with it growing pains but also opportunities.
I’m positive my child is one of the best things that’s happened to me. Seriously, I would be lost without her.
I’m positive my husband is going to burn out from putting every waking hour into martial arts, but he insists the day job is the problem (well, night shift of his full time job, but you get the point).
I hope it all comes together. It’s hard to look at the past and see where live was and where it’s going, but for my sanity, I must. I love my dad, and I always will, but that other life is over. I will always cherish his devotion and love. At the same time, I can’t let his death hold me back from living a life my family needs to be their best selves.
This year is a turning point, and one way or another, the grief will shrink.
Fuck you, Clearblue, and your Hulu ads.
Never enough...
time in the day for my business
time in the week for family
sleep to feel human
money to accomplish what i want
calm to reduce my stress day-to-day
Mark this day on your calendar, folks.
Husband finally admitted he’s ready to have our house back and for the people who’ve lived here SINCE JULY to leave. Never thought this day would come.
I wanted to be sad potential client unfollowed me on Twitter...
but then when I realized it’s because I said, “Do better, white people” because my self defense instructor was super racist towards me today ( "I was staring at you today and wondering, 'What ARE you?” and then saying that she thinks Middle Eastern, which isn’t the truth at all), and he was also a huge Trump supporter, I felt less bad.
He also vaguetweeted his opinion about what I said and how his skin color has nothing to do with who he is as a person. Struck a nerve, didn’t I? Also, must be nice to be a privileged straight white guy who kind of tried to flirt with me (ew!) and feel like your skin color and the benefits that come with it haven’t shaped who you are.
Bye, asshole!
What kind of losers are too good to get jobs and pay rent on time?
Oh right.
The ones renting from us.
It’s not the late rent that bothers me at the moment. It’s the acting like you’re too good to work that does. What does one who isn’t working but is taking classes on a part-time basis do all the time? I’m seriously curious. Even when I was in school, I held a part time job - a few at a time some semesters.
When I was a military spouse only and doing my graduate degree online, I still found a way to earn income. It wasn’t much, but it was something and led me to what I’m doing today. When I couldn’t work, I volunteered. I didn’t sit around all day hiding from the world in my room.
And now I know the guy is working on a short-term project with a real company that pays actual money, so one would thing rent could be paid at a reasonable time.
That’s not happened.
Part of me is being a dick about it all because of the entitlement around it all and the other part has been super generous and gracious and patient, more patient than nearly anyone in this situation. A third other part of me is seriously pissed off all of the time and wants the house back.
They better be gone by June or I’m going to flip shit.
Also - ALSO! - don’t they want their own space? Aren’t they tired of being freeloaders? I just don’t understand that mentality. When we lived with friends for 4 months after moving home from husband’s ETS I was losing my mind. I felt guilty constantly and like a burden. Moving out and being on our own was a MUST. These people are perfectly content to be here ****10 months**** How are they not wracked with guilt????
JUNE.
The people living with us are fucking morons.
Been here 6 months and I came out to the kitchen after showering today to find an element on the stove on. We have a toddler. Are they really that fucking reckless to leave a burner going with a toddler running around?
Absolutely done.
I want them out of my house by end of May or sooner. They graduate early May. Getting the fuck out asap is a must.
That should be me.
A woman in my martial arts class is 15 weeks pregnant. Nearly every week she shares a new post about how large the life growing inside her is.
We’ve been trying for over 6 months with no results.
Well, “trying” is generous. Stopped taking BC in June. Began using ovulation strips in the fall. Began tracking ovulation with an app. Nothing.
Last time, when we weren’t trying but weren’t actively using BC, it took 13 months from the time I stopped BC to get pregnant.
So, from the definitions I have been able to find, we’re halfway to infertile. Greaaaaat.
I wanted to be pregnant by November. That month came and went. February is just around the corner.
I wanted my daughter to grow up with a sibling that wasn’t too far in age from her. She’ll be 4 this fall - is that age range too far apart? I can’t really know. All I know is I’m getting more frustrated every month that passes and every time I start to spot.
Fuck.
Work from home day at my day job
Good: Being able to get stuff done and not be bothered.
Bad: Daycare provider being too parent-y to me. I don’t need to be told to be safe over and over or have her ask when I will be there.
Worst: Husband siding with the daycare provider and telling me to pick up the kiddo even though I just dropped her off.
Giving it until noon before I get her. I still have a ton of shit to do and won’t have any help watching her if we do pick up early. Well, until I pick up early. Good chance he won’t even be awake yet.
My throat hurts from screaming.
When I got up this morning, I saw his work ID in a pile of dirty clothes in our bathroom.
15 hours later, I’m expected to get off of my computer and join him in the tiny bathroom to look for this same work ID.
Inevitably, it’s my fault he can’t get his shit together.
He yells at me. I call him a psycho (because that’s what psychos do, right? Blame other people for their problems?). We have this huge argument that is stymied when the toddler comes in saying she has to go to the bathroom. I help her and she goes to bed. (Well, for now. She sounds like she’s up again. Meh.)
He tries to make me listen after he makes his lunch, tries to pin it on me for him losing his temper. “If you hadn’t been throwing clothes at me…”
You’re 30 fucking years old. Get your own shit together. No one helps me in the morning, not even you when you have a night off. And now I’m to blame because you can’t handle yourself.
I don’t love him anymore. I don’t. He gave me our daughter, but the love is snuffed out.
Toddler is up. Sounds like she’s going to try and go to the bathroom on her own. Time to go help her and figure out what, if any, step I should take next.
ALSO
the bottle of Chardonnay I won at a fundraiser Sunday is looking mighty tempting...
But I won’t. I can’t because work. Because responsible mom.
But it’s tempting. Oh, so tempting.
My throat hurts from screaming.
When I got up this morning, I saw his work ID in a pile of dirty clothes in our bathroom.
15 hours later, I’m expected to get off of my computer and join him in the tiny bathroom to look for this same work ID.
Inevitably, it’s my fault he can’t get his shit together.
He yells at me. I call him a psycho (because that’s what psychos do, right? Blame other people for their problems?). We have this huge argument that is stymied when the toddler comes in saying she has to go to the bathroom. I help her and she goes to bed. (Well, for now. She sounds like she’s up again. Meh.)
He tries to make me listen after he makes his lunch, tries to pin it on me for him losing his temper. “If you hadn’t been throwing clothes at me...”
You’re 30 fucking years old. Get your own shit together. No one helps me in the morning, not even you when you have a night off. And now I’m to blame because you can’t handle yourself.
I don’t love him anymore. I don’t. He gave me our daughter, but the love is snuffed out.
Toddler is up. Sounds like she’s going to try and go to the bathroom on her own. Time to go help her and figure out what, if any, step I should take next.
Mini rant...
Since I have a newer client on social media that it appears is practically stalking every profile I have, this is the only place I can really feel like myself for now. His book is also leaving me feeling drained and not as helpful as I’d like to be, as the developmental edit on it is wearing me down.
He seems nice, don’t get me wrong, but ugh...
I have so many other higher profile projects that need attention and I just feel so tired after reading his.
That’s all. I just really wish I did this full time already so I could give the people that deserve my full attention the help they need.
Unsettled
Things have been going well enough in general. I’m doing my best not to let every dumb thing the people living here temporarily do bother me (though it’s impossible at times).
But I just have this unsettled feeling. I keep feeling like a change needs to happen. I’m not sure if it’s a work change or some kind of life change, but it’s been quiet lately...too quiet. We have stability with our jobs and with our family (in general - the potty training has been a clusterf**k). We have almost $1,000 in our emergency savings. We have money left over after bills for groceries and fun expenses, and I’m not constantly fixing our account with my business income earnings.
Maybe it’s just me coming off of a five day weekend and reminiscing on what could have been. I dunno. But it feels like the other shoe might drop at any minute and I have to be vigilant for it.
Going to stay up just another hour before bed. First early morning in many days! (Ughhh noooooo.....)
TFW you’re editing a book for someone and they’re using “erstwhile,” but it’s not a fucking Jane Austen book.
On Mortality and Depression
It’s my 28th. birthday and today, I wanted to kill myself.
The feeling passed after a few hours, but it wasn’t hard to feel the despair of mortality and existing. I’m that much closer to my time on this plane ending, and sometimes I feel like I’m completely pointless.
Sure, Facebook posts with well wishes are nice, and colleagues at work are okay, but when the only gift you receive is from your mom, stepdad, and brother, and the time your husband spent looking for a gift for you resulted in him buying something for himself only (nothing for you), and your toddler is driving you completely crazy, and despite your raise at work your debt is still ridiculous, it’s hard not to feel depressed.
I mostly want to kill myself because of the debt. $100k+ in student loans mostly causes the feelings. The consumer debt sucks and is all our fault, but the big student loans loom.
$600/month for the next 30 years. $600/month going to the biggest mistake of my life. You’d want to kill yourself, too.
I’m too chickenshit to do it, but when I get really depressed like I did today, and I sat in the parking lot at my martial arts studio and cried while my daughter listened to a song she wanted to hear, and the voicemail my grandparents left me singing to me leads me to sobbing, it’s not hard to see why an end in sight seems appealing.
I feel terrible for feeling this way because just on the radio today, the parents of someone I know from high school who did end his life during his medical school program spoke out about suicide and a documentary they’re part of to raise awareness. What kind of coward am I thinking of doing this to my family when I’ve seen these people suffer?
I went to the funeral last year and saw how it broke the parents to their souls. This normally jovial father wept openly for the loss of his son, completely inconsolable as he wailed. I can’t do that to the people I love no matter how hard the pull to do it comes. Especially my daughter - her suffering is something I can’t bring upon myself to cause even if it would alleviate my pain.
I hope it’s pregnancy hormones. We haven’t been trying that long to conceive (since June?) but it feels like forever. And at least it would explain the crazy swings in my mood better than having a broken brain. Only time will tell on that one. 6 days until my period from what my calendar says.
Therapy is something I’ve considered. It’s just a matter of cost or finding something that covers insurance. I’d almost prefer to pay out of pocket if it meant my husband wouldn’t have to find out.
At least I can write here sometimes. It helps even if no one reads it.
Mini Rant
I get that it’s “cool” and “edgy” to be the clueless Millennial whose life is constantly falling apart, but it’d be nice if people didn’t shit on the fact that some of us have different lives. Being married and having a kid and a stable relationship is not something that should be shamed just like it’s not right to shame people who aren’t married, don’t have kids, or don’t have relative stability.
Unfortunately, if you say this in public, you get shat on by all of the people who think you “have it together” when they don’t. What the fuck ever. My life can be messy, too. I shouldn’t feel guilty or be forced to be ashamed about the cards I was dealt, nor do I try to gloat. But my happiness about my station in life shouldn’t have to suffer because of other people’s relative unhappiness that they do nothing to alleviate.
This is probably about as close as I get to saying these things publicly because this is likely a major unpopular opinion and I don’t feel like getting the flak for it. I’m too tired to care about the opinions but really don’t feel like having to respond to them either.