Sometimes I forget...

...that I've been cast with the infertiles.

And then it hits me like a ton of bricks. Like a piece of me has been cut off. And I keep forgetting. Until I go and try to use it. And then shi.t does it hurt. Like phantom limb pains. F.ck these phantom limb pains (and f.ck that I can't even think of a better analogy).

And it hurts for the weirdest reasons. (i had to write this down for me. stop reading now if you don't want to join the fall down my spiral of morose self-pity. i will, however, promise to post something light and fluffy next. but don't say I didn't warn you. it's not pretty here.)

1. My body is a wonderland. I mean, a wasteland. I mean, I was picked last for dodge ball. And I was what could be only kindly described as chubby my entire childhood and adolescence (I still qualify as chubby, but I don't think you can use that word after the age of 15. By then you graduate to plain old fat). Anyway, the point being that I've not (ever) had a good relationship with my body. And failing in such a primal (reproductive) way has brought up old (body) baggage. And this body, she's reminding me of every single time I. let. her. down. She's not fighting fair.

2. My family is as dysfunctional as everyone else's. Do you ever talk about "little me" in therapy? That insistent childhood self who keeps wanting to be heard. And healed. Well little me is devastated that we don't get to redo playing house. My mother is a natural disaster area. My father is not aware of my existence. And little me is stomping her foot and crying in the corner because someone took her do-over away.

3. I want to control EVERYTHING. When I'm scared/hurt/insert-negative-emotion-of-your-choice, I like to believe that if I work hard enough, I can fix it (sometimes, S likes to call this being a martyr. sometimes she's right). I like to think that I don't need anyone's help because I CAN DO IT MYSELF. (Hmmmm, seems like little me might be rearing her pretty little head for this one too). But this time I can't. I can't do it myself. And that makes me feel sad and helpless.

4. Oh, jealousy. What would be a list of painful things without the list of pregnant bellies that have popped up around me. Why do my ex-girlfriend, co-worker, college roommate, and college BFF all have to be pregnant/birthing babies RIGHT NOW.

F.ck infertility and the mess it makes.