July 4th Anniversaries

I want you to choose yourself.

I want you to fiercely protect your peace.

I want you to pursue what inspires and nourishes you.

Infertility changed me.

Being childless-not-by-choice changed me.

The pandemic changed me.

2024 alone changed me.

Pic from SelfLoveRainbow

We have ONE LIFE.

(Thank you Tom Petty!)

Pic retrieved from this tribute post

I've shared that I hit extreme burnout last year. It was awful. I took the whole month of December off. I went to work and that was it. No meetings, no appointments, no traveling. I went to the grocery store and checked the mail. I did the bare minimum.

Then I spent the first 6 months of 2025 following through but not adding anything. I went to work. I went to appointments. I finished a quilt top, the hardest one I've sewn so far! And I am so close to finishing the draft of my research article that is good enough to submit for publication. (If accepted, I will get it back with lots of edits to make. But I want to submit the best work I can.)

I feel sooo much better. There are physical signs. Instead of sleeping 10-12 hours a night, I am sleeping 8-9 hours a night. There are emotional signs. When I feel stressed, I can breathe and talk myself through it instead of falling apart or shutting down. There are spiritual signs. I feel more connected to something bigger than me. I refuse to give up. I will continue living my little life sharing the light I have with everyone that comes into my orbit.

*****

July 4th.
Yesterday was a contrast in anniversaries. 

One year ago yesterday I received a phone call from my niece where she was unexpectedly and very shockingly rude, hateful, and condescending to me. When I shared a little about that phone call with other close family members, nobody reacted much. I had to explain why what she said and did was so wrong. It changed everything. It was/is very, very hard for me. I still think about it often. I give myself grace. We navigate and manage what comes our way the best way we can in the moment.

On the other hand, four years ago yesterday my boyfriend and I moved into our home. If we are still at this address next year, it will be the longest I've ever lived anywhere in my life. I cannot describe the feelings that my home gives me, but... I bought this house for the life I have now. I never planned on or even imagined raising children here. And logistically, I haven't had to change my address for the last four years. I haven't had to shut off and start up a bunch of different utilities and services. I haven't had to pack up everything and move it. 

I've been allowed to just be.

I want that for you. Prioritize your well-being.

I'll leave you with another July 4th anniversary.
Six years ago I wrote this post: The Cost of My Freedom

Pic retrieved from Ontario Science Centre

Infantilizing Childless Women

My family isn't very nice to me. 

There. I said it.

I'm 45 years old and I am constantly criticized for all of my choices: where I live, what I do for work, who I choose as my partner, and how I spend my time. At this point, it is absolutely ridiculous. I am fine. I'm employed. I pay my bills. I am kind. I have hobbies. I volunteer. 

But I don't need to tell you all of this. I don't even need to tell myself. 

I am enough and I don't need to explain my existence or reasoning. 

It's just really, really sad.

I woke up in a bit of a funk yesterday morning. I knew my extended family was gathering for the holidays yesterday, but I chose to take care of myself, not travel, and stay home. I don't regret my decision, but I still missed seeing my cousins. I called my parents to visit and my mom was so mean. She's the kind of person that will insult you and then tell you, "You're overthinking it," when you call her out on it. That is exactly what happened yesterday. I tried not to let it, but it really soured my day. I am a high achieving, accomplished adult, and I am treated like I am an ignorant teenager making bad choices. It's beyond annoying.

I feel like I'm constantly having realizations about my relationships with my family members and learning how to interact differently. But it's a neverending evolution apparently. Hopefully, I learned some new things yesterday because I am really tired of feeling like a hurt and misunderstood kid.

Do I go low contact? I've tried every other strategy so far. I've done nothing wrong. But I am still insulted. My life and my choices are not respected. How my life is and how I am treated by my family is completely incongruous.

Is it because I'm not married? Because I don't have kids? Because I'm the youngest?

I thought as my niece and nephew grew up, the family would realize I was also growing up. But my young adult niece and nephew seem to have surpassed me in the family. They are not criticized for where they live or what they do. It is really, really, really fucking weird.

I am glad I stayed home this weekend. I am glad I did the best I could to take care of myself. I am sorry that I hung up the phone yesterday and continued to replay all of the criticisms lobbed at me on repeat in my head all day. I tried writing a letter to myself in my head telling myself all of the things I wanted to hear. 

I don't know what else to do. I feel like I cannot deal with this anymore. It's not good for me.

It's not right, and it's not fair. I survived my worst nightmare. I don't have kids after planning for them and structuring my entire life around having them. I've been through so much stress and dealt with so much grief: infertility, failed treatments, moving, divorce, a pandemic. I know I've done an amazing, awesome job, but I don't want to have to tell my parents that anymore. It should be the other way around. They should be telling me, not me trying to convince them. 

Did I mention that I'm 45??

And it's not like I'm trying to explain myself. It just happens in conversation. My mom will ask what I've been up to this week, I'll share things like "working and sewing," and whatever I say is always the wrong thing. Wrong job, wrong hobby. It's. So. Bizarre.

When I was a kid and she was mad at me, my mother used to smirk and tell me all the time, "I hope you grow up and have a daughter just like you." And to my credit, I would say, "Me too. Then at least someone in my life would make sense."

Yesterday was just another day in my life with my parents. But just like the acquaintance I wrote about in my last post (the "I know you don't want to see any newborn pictures, but do you want to see just one?" lady), people will say the weirdest shit to me. And out of all of the venting I did to my boyfriend yesterday, I still didn't even tell him the most hurtful thing my mom said. (He is so over it. I was grateful that he was listening to me, but I also wanted to spare him.)

Yesterday my mother said to me, "I know you don't like to hear this. But, as a parent, that's just how it [parenting] is." My MOM tried to parent-splain (that's my version of "mansplain") her treatment of me, her middle aged daughter, as reasonable because she claimed that's how parenting is while simultaneously referencing the fact that I have no children and inferring that I don't know what it's like. 

😳

Wow, lady. 

Just wow.

Keep Reaching Out

Support is rarely a one time thing. During hard times, we need continual bursts of it.

I'm in a mood where I feel less-than-great. I think I'm feeling anxious, uncertain. Sad.

So I reached out to two different friends via text. One friend is my most recent best friend from where I used to live. I've been lucky to have her in my life for 11 years now even though we actually met for the first time by chance back in 1998. The other friend is my best friend from high school. We lost touch for many years but reconnected through mutual friends, and I am so glad we did. Both these women are awesome! And they knew what to say to support me this morning.

Gahhh this time period of my life sucks so much AND I am feeling very thankful. I have cultivated great support in my life. And also?... This is, by far, NOT the worst thing I've been through. 

So there's that.

But it can be hard to reach out. We feel annoying or like a burden or a broken record. Whatever. Reach out anyway. We need the support and our loved ones want to support us.

*****

Here's something I finished a couple of days ago. It's my first quilt top of 2024, and it's flannel.

This quilt top represents a lot to me because I hadn't been sewing as much since the summer.

One of the significant issues in my most recent relationship was his young adult son who lived with us as an opportunity to save some money but did nothing to contribute to the household or move forward as an individual in society. I don't want to say too much because my experience involves other people's stories, but I will say this: it was driving me crazy!!! As a former teacher and current healthcare professional, not to mention as a childless not-by-choice woman, it was extremely difficult for me to live with someone in my own house who was given multiple opportunities to move forward in life and chose not to.

Plus, he was staying in my sewing room, which is why I had not been sewing as much. I sacrificed my creative space for six months to give him a place to live, which I was glad to do... When I thought he was going to go back to school or enlist in the military or do some job training, all things he said he was going to do. Folks... He did none of the above. 

Did I mention that this was the third time I'd lived with this young man in the last five years?

O. M. G. Living with other people's children (and parenting) is so hard. 

So, anyway, long story short (and I am really abbreviating this painful story)...
I wanted a family. I thought my boyfriend and his son could be my family.
But I realized they are not. They are not my family. 

So the kid moved out and I got my sewing room back. I've been sewing so much more. And reorganizing my fabric. It's healing while my life goes through yet another transformation.

*****

In summary, text your friends. Call your family. Send an email. Write a letter. It's whatever you choose. Just reach out. We don't have to go through hard times all alone.

Also, be honest with yourself. Especially when it's hard. This is where reaching out to a loved one can also help. We can hear ourselves think when we talk to others.

And finally, find an activity where you can get lost in the flow. We can't think all of the time.

*****

Here are some more blocks for the international sew-a-long for my Alice in Wonderland quilt:

The Dormouse at the Tea Party

&

Some Cake for the Tea Party.

Excluded at Work

I got mad last week. Really, really annoyed.

I am somewhat used to birth announcement emails at work. I do not think they are appropriate, and I definitely do not appreciate them. But, I realize that they are a thing. I don't know why, but they are an accepted practice in the workplace. 

(And, no, I'm not against celebrating people's good news. I just know that for every birth announcement email accompanied with a picture of the newborn, there is at least one person who has just had a miscarriage or is struggling with infertility. And that person definitely did not need to see that email as they are managing everything on top of their work responsibilities.)

So, sure, whatever. So-and-so had a baby. And now the baby is born. Fine. I'm glad everything went well. Truly. That is not sarcasm. I am not a monster.

However.

Last week I received a department-wide email that really pissed me off. It was about the woman I am covering for while she is out on maternity leave. The subject was "[Baby's name] Update." And I was like, what the... I clicked on it, and there were FIVE pictures of this baby.

What. 

I didn't need that in my life.

The email said they are so happy for mom and baby and cannot wait until she is back at work. There was no mention of me who is covering while she is out. I felt like I was unappreciated, like they just want me gone so my co-worker can return. But I realize I may be reading too much into it. My feelings about everything may be coloring my perspective.

But here's what made me mad. There was never a department-wide email sent out about my graduation. That actually has something to do with the workplace. My doctoral degree is directly related to my profession and career. I don't want the accolade for my ego. But if we're celebrating people's babies, I just wanted equal recognition of my hard work for the past 16 months. You know, since it is actually an appropriate announcement for the workplace... 

I felt so excluded.

I guess only babies are celebrated as an accomplishment where I work.

I Don't Want This Default Career

About a month ago, I wrote about how working with kids has changed for me and how it has really confused me because I've always enjoyed it and I'm good at it. But as I was training to cover pediatrics for my co-worker's maternity leave, I quickly realized working with kids felt much different than it ever has. Part of that is infertility, part of it is the pandemic, and part of it is age. 

But I figured out the biggest piece of the puzzle while talking to a friend last week.

I never wanted a career in pediatrics! I only became a teacher to kill time until I became a mom. Since knowing I'm not going to be raising children, I've still worked in several different settings for children. It's what I know, and it was easy for me to get hired each time.

But I don't want to do it anymore. I reeeally don't want to do it.  

It's why I went back to school, to learn something other than pediatrics. It's why I got a job in a nursing home and a hospital, where I work mostly with older adults.

And now here I am, completely dreading my pediatrics coverage that begins tomorrow.

I'm grateful for the opportunity to work, and I definitely need the money. But dang, I haven't experienced dread like this since, well, right before I quit my last pediatrics job...

Another friend cautioned me that I'm probably still feeling the damaging effects from my last experience in pediatrics with an unstable, untrustworthy co-worker. I'm hoping I'll get in the groove of things once I get started. I have equipment at this job. I have resources. And the parents care enough to bring their kids in for services. I'm digging deep to try and find a decent attitude about the whole thing because it's what I committed to. It's what I'm going to do.

But yeah, working with kids was never going to be my lifelong career. I was going to be a mom.

Annoying People Will Be Annoying

I may be happy, but I still get angry.
Like at last night's meeting.
I wanted to throw things.

It was a meeting for my profession's organization. It was virtual because all of us live across the state. We were meeting about possibly drafting a bill for the next legislative session. We were discussing logistics like statistics and stakeholders when someone brought up a good point about having a consumer on our task force to help guide our thinking.

But it was what was said next that pissed. me. off.

One woman said, "Do we have anyone on board that this legislation will help? Do we have any healthcare consumers that can't currently access these services? Ooh, do we have a mother that we can invite to join our group? A mother always looks good."

😑 😑 😑

Really?

A mother?

Dammit, I was so pissed. That woman's idea just landed so hard and with a thud. I hated it.

Of course, she would suggest a mother. Someone with kids. Someone Important.
Someone who is Worth Helping, whose life has Meaning and Purpose.

WTF?!?

I immediately wanted to leave the meeting. Just sign off without saying anything. But I didn't. I reminded myself that this woman has rubbed me the wrong way a couple of times over the years. I told myself that the meeting wasn't about this woman or even pronatalism and tried to stick to the topic at hand. 

I'm glad I stayed. It was a productive meeting. Issues were discussed. People picked tasks to do. And we will reconvene in two weeks.

But yeah. I was pissed. It's not just that one little comment but a lifetime of them. They all convey the message that my life is less important, and I am tired of this inaccurate sentiment.

The world should feel more inclusive for us.

Image found at https://kjcg.com/posters/dn4qrr9smxs6defp0n6up4u0dbohd8. 

It looks like this is a poster for sale by this consulting group that creates inclusive, collaborative workplaces. (Interestingly, exclusion in the workplace may be an emerging theme in my study on involuntary childlessness after infertility.)

PTSD Persists

I'm feeling groggy and a bit melancholy this morning. I had nightmares all night. They were about IVF, my ex-husband, and two former friends I used to be very close with. It all sucked. 

I have not slept through the night in over three months. 

I haven't been officially diagnosed with PTSD, but I've had two different doctors tell me that they think I have it. The brain and heart can only handle so much... 

I have found what helps and that is THC. That should not be a controversial thing to share on a public forum, but, unfortunately, it is. It is still illegal according to federal law. And because of that status, I cannot consume it while I am on the job market. All of the jobs I'm applying for conduct pre-employment drug screens. Which includes screening for THC. Which angers me to no end. Gahhh I don't do drugs!!!

It is not my employer's business if I choose to eat a gummy before I go to bed. It is not my employer's business if I choose to smoke and quilt on a Saturday afternoon. Just like I would not drink a beer before going into work, I would not consume THC before going into work.

And speaking of, I am free to drink as much alcohol as I want. You know, the substance that causes anger, depression, intoxication, decreased motor skills, impaired driving, and leads to a lot, A LOT of fights? Yeah, I can drink as much as I want. No employers regulate that.

But I don't want to drink a lot. Unlike THC, even a couple of beers cause sleeping difficulties.
But, heaven forbid, I get a good night's sleep. 

My pain is real.
My losses are real.
My trauma is real.
And I am reminded every single night.

It sucks.

Sigh...

I will get through this. I always do.
I know how to tolerate extreme discomfort and incredible unfairness.

But I can barely wait to sleep again.

Picture found at 

https://www.nami.org/Blogs/NAMI-Blog/October-2020/7-Tools-for-Managing-Traumatic-Stress

It is done.

I originally posted this on 12/8/21 under a different title, but then I second guessed myself and unpublished it. But... It's all true, my last two weeks are over (Why does so much that sucks involve a two week wait??), and I now feel more comfortable re-posting this without any edits.

It is done.

*****

Repeating "it's not me" in my head really helped me last week. 

Unfortunately, things at work escalated. Accusations were made, lines were (majorly!) crossed, and I submitted my resignation. The whole thing completely sucks. I feel like crap and I'm out of a job. But what was I going to do? Stay there? Why? For what?

I just don't tolerate bullshit like I used to. I've had bad job after bad job after bad job. I've loved my students and I've loved my patients, but I've never been paid or treated well by an employer.

I know life isn't fair. Most likely, anyone who is reading a CNBC blog knows life isn't fair. 

But I reached my limit many years ago. It was exactly in the moment when I learned my last fertility treatment did not result in pregnancy. In that exact moment, although I had no idea doing what or where, I was determined to live a life that I thought was worth living.

And my most recent job wasn't it. Not by a long shot.

So I'm putting it out there in the Universe: I WILL find another job. But even better than that, I will find a good paying job at a place of employment that treats me well.

Infertility took so much away from me. I won't compromise with anything else in my life.

Progression and Aggravation

There have been so many moments lately where I've stopped and marveled at how far I've come.

1. A couple of Fridays ago as my co-worker was leaving work for the weekend, I said, "Enjoy your family!" Like, it just rolled off my tongue and that's what came out of my mouth. His family. The thing that I always wanted. He's married with 3 young kids and I genuinely wished him a great weekend with his family without a second thought. 
   
   
2. Recently at work, I've done several of pediatric patient evaluations with nearly the whole dang family present in the treatment room. But what's a stay-at-home parent supposed to do? One kid has an appointment, so all of the kids go. It made me laugh inside my head each time. There I am, in the treatment room with a parent, patient, and 2 - 3 siblings (so at least 3 young children at once). The parent is looking to me for help. The patient is looking at me wondering who I am. The siblings are intrigued by me and each one of them wants to tell/show me something. I'm fielding it all, giving everyone attention while conducting the evaluation, and thinking to myself, "Now who is the childless one here?" Hahaha. But it's all good. It makes me happy to help families. A clinical instructor told me one time that any time you help the family, you are also helping the patient.
   
   
3. The biggest marker of my healing happened just a week or two ago. One of my close friends from graduate school had her second baby. She texted me a pic of her and her newborn and... IT DIDN'T MAKE ME SAD. This is a Big Deal. I *hate* newborn-and-mom-in-the-hospital pics. I still do. Maybe I always will. But my friend texted me one of her and her baby (which was pretty uncharacteristic of her because she usually asks first before sending any pics but I didn't mind) and all I felt was happiness for her. The picture didn't bother me. It's a freaking miracle, reserved for only the most special people in my life.
   
   

So, I'm feeling pretty good, right? I'm working with kids, I'm helping families, and I'm genuinely supportive of my friends and co-workers, none of which causes me pain or drains my energy.

Well.

Then I attended a two-day virtual conference this past weekend. It was awesome and it was awful. The content was the awesome part. I learned so much. But, O. M. G., were the awful parts awful... I'll spare you every detail but the very mommy-centric vibe reared its ugly head early on and only grew over time. I actually left a couple of sessions early because the content wasn't worth sitting through the delivery.

Did you know that moms are the only busy people on the planet??

It was a lot of those kinds of judgments combined with the assumption that everyone has or will have children. I wondered how many people were viscerally turned off like I was. There were over 200 attendees. Mostly women. I couldn't be the only childless woman in attendance. 

Even my boyfriend noticed. As he came through the kitchen to occasionally snack, he could hear my conference in the living room and he commented on the amount of "mom comments" he heard. He said that doesn't happen in his experience with conferences. He thought it was weird. And annoying.

It was annoying, but it was also hurtful. Hearing one or two comments is one thing. To be expected. But hearing pronatalist comments all day and managing my energy with regard to them completely exhausted me. I got off my computer after the first day and just cried.

It helps that I like the life I've created for myself. That's how I get through the tough moments now. Living my life after infertility without my children is still hard sometimes, but I also wouldn't trade my life for anyone else's. I worked my ass off and I truly love where I am now (metaphorically but also geographically).

It's good I'm so secure with myself. (Hey, old self from my teens and twenties, it really does get better!!) It's good I'm so secure with who I am and the decisions I've made.

Because that's not all. There was one zinger of a moment during the 2nd day of the virtual conference that left me stunned. And angry. What I heard online at this conference was one of the most hurtful things I've ever heard regarding childlessness. (Prepare yourself.) The speaker referenced when she was younger in her career, childless, worked in pediatrics, and felt like she knew what she was doing. She said she was often asked if she had kids and she said she never understood the relevance of the question. (Do you see where this is going? Brace yourself...) But, now that she has kids, TA-DAA, she knows she didn't know what she was talking about before. 

!!!!!!!!!

The presenter implied (almost explicitly stated) that you can't know children until you have them!

I DISAGREE. 

And my short retort (that I shared only with my boyfriend, lol) went as follows: 

"Yeah lady, sure, whatever. Let me tell you, being childless at 25 is not the same thing as being childless in your 40s. Sure, I'm not a parent. But while you were "busy" with your own three kids the last several years, I have spent the last TWENTY-FIVE YEARS working with literally THOUSANDS of youth. You may be experienced with your children, but I am experienced with the wide range of the preK to young adult population as a whole."

Gahhh!!!

I logged off for that session, returned for the next one, and then I was done. I immediately fell asleep for two hours. I learned a ton due to a lot of other women's generosity with their knowledge, time, and sharing their experiences, but the mom-ness of the virtual conference Wore. Me. Out.

So that's where I am. Noticing how I've changed, noticing what still hurts. Proud of my progress in recovery from infertility. Still managing related emotions as they occur. The journey forward is full of progression and aggravation. 

And that's how healing goes. 💜

Another Lesson Learned from Infertility

Well, hello August. August 2021. If you count March 2020 as month 1, we are now month 18 into this pandemic. Everyone/Everything everywhere is exhausted. 

I try to remember what it was like when I was 18 months into trying to get pregnant. I remember it was awful from the very first month. Just like this pandemic has been. I felt lonely, sad, confused, frustrated, devastated, and angry. I was isolated from my peer group. I avoided people as much as I could. I ran errands, volunteered once a week, and ate Mexican food with my husband on Friday nights, but, other than that, I didn't do a whole lot. I try to remember more details, but that time period (months 8 - 24 TTC) is one big blur of sadness. 

It felt like it would never end.
Just like this pandemic is feeling.

I remind myself that everything is temporary. Change is inevitable. The days are long but the years are short. Over time even the Grand Canyon was carved by water...

It won't be like this forever.

Not Today

Most days I am okay with my situation. Most days I can cope with losing my dreams of motherhood. Most days I can enjoy the life I DO have. But today is not one of those days.

Like the rest of us, I am hitting a new level of pandemic fatigue. I am tired and angry and completely emotionally depleted. So it was especially upsetting to be included on a group text yesterday with my mom and sisters about their travel plans. Yes, travel plans. One of my sisters is having out of town guests because they are all going to a wedding this weekend. On the following weekend, she will travel across the country to visit her son. This is the same sister that regularly eats in restaurants. But both of my sisters and my mom have traveled over the last year.

???

Then I woke up this morning to my mother replying to the group text that she forgot she had made plans to go visit one of her sisters in another state for one of her sister's grandkids' baby shower. WHAT.

I'm sorry everyone. I truly apologize.
If my family has anything to do with it, this pandemic will never end.

But let's revisit that baby shower thing very briefly.

Again, WHAT.

Traveling out of state? In a pandemic? To attend a baby shower? For my cousin's kid's baby? He's old enough to have a baby on the way?? Well, damn, I guess he is...

I burst into tears. No surprise there.

But the tears weren't about him having a child on the way per se. Although, considering his situation, that is slightly tragic all on its own...

The tears were about the never-ending thoughtlessness of my family. The fact that this information was so casually mentioned in a group text message without regard for my feelings at all really hurt me. 

They will never get it. My family will never understand what surviving infertility is like for me. Not only that, they will never even make an effort to understand. And that hurts.

So that's where I am today. I cried twice before it was even 7:00 am. I'm so sick of this. I'm so sick of everything. It's days like this where I wish I could be babied. It's embarrassing to say, but I wish I could just crawl into some comforting person's lap and have them rub my back while I cried. 

Instead, I logged on here to read what others have written. You all are my people. You all understand. You all make me feel seen, heard, valued, and less alone. Thank you.

I know this day will pass. I know these feelings will pass as well. But, for today, I think I will do only what I feel like. I will read, nap, watch tv, and quilt. Today I will be especially mindful to take it easy and to take care of myself. No one else can do it for me.

Sitting With Anger

I'm tired and I'm angry and I'm tired of being angry.

But here we are...

I'm angry. 

I'm angry that I haven't eaten in a restaurant since mid-March, I haven't seen my parents in over a year (by FAR the longest time we've ever gone), and I don't even feel safe going into work. Yet, co-workers are having potlucks and going to parades while friends and family are traveling for the holidays and weddings. (A wedding? Really?? WTF?)

I don't do anything. I don't go anywhere. I read, write, sew, shop, cook, clean, and watch tv. All at home. I go to the grocery store at 5:30 in the morning every 2 - 3 weeks and that's because we don't have any pick-up or curbside delivery service here. I go to the post office but only when there isn't a line. 

That's... It. 

I hate this pandemic and I hate people's selfish reactions to it.

I am angry. I am tired. And I have nothing original to say.

So, I'm sitting here with it. Feeling my feelings. Knowing they are more than valid and justified, even though feelings don't have to be "valid" or "justified" to be felt. Knowing there's nothing I can do about the pandemic or my job or other people's choices. There's nothing I can do at all.

I've been here before.
All of us in this community have been here before.

Angry. Sad. Unable to do anything about any of it.
I remind myself what I've already been through, what I've already survived.
I choose to keep going.

But I'm still mad.

*****

I'll share with you a couple of quotes I've come across recently.
Remember to enjoy the little things. 💟

A good find on social media (sorry it's a little blurry):

A pleasantly surprising text from one of my sisters, saying "Just like you!" with this pic:

Before My Brain Breaks

I am in a mental space I've never been in before. 

For someone who's learned to manage pretty intrusive anxiety and depression over the last several decades, that says a lot. I don't take my mental health for granted. So when I felt like I was at my breaking point last week, I listened to myself. And when I say breaking point, I mean it literally. I felt like my brain was starting to crack. I felt like it was only a matter of time before I just... Broke.

I was processing slower, not comprehending as much. My head hurt. I was dizzy. I wasn't hungry. I was teary. I couldn't think straight. It felt like I couldn't get anything done at work. What I did get done wasn't that hard and took much longer than usual. I felt like my brain was slowly... Shutting... Down...

I don't want to get covid.
I've spent enough energy in my life on a chronic illness (infertility). I'd like to avoid another.

I don't want to spread covid.
I don't want to cause others' suffering, especially when I could've just stayed home. 

Hell, I don't even want to have an accident!
I can't need to go to the hospital because the hospitals are getting full!

The fact of the matter is they don't wear masks here. They say they do, but they don't. I sit in meetings all week and I am the only person wearing a mask. (They think it's fine if everyone is seated and not moving around. I do not share this belief.) My younger students do not wear them and I'm not allowed to ask them to wear one while with me. (Yes, I asked and, yes, I was told no.) My older students do not wear them properly (they're almost all under the nose) and a lot of teachers wear bandanas or neck gaiters (ineffective coverings) and pull everything down to talk. All the while, the number of cases in our county climbs. 

There was a community parade a couple of weeks ago, a potluck at work last week, and my boyfriend and I walked by a packed (standing room only) restaurant this weekend. I'm incredulous and I'm angry. How can people continue to live their lives like things are normal when I'm scared just to go to work? I asked my boyfriend, "Am I overreacting?" He immediately replied, "No. You're not overreacting."

I wrote about living in The Twilight Zone last June before I moved. I wrote about feeling gaslit two months ago. It's only getting worse. The Twilight Zone, the gaslighting, the virus. I know family and friends with travel plans. I see so many people around me living in denial of covid's existence, of how contagious it is, of how varied and potentially long-lasting its effects can be. This will not end well.

The bottom line is I don't feel safe at work. The risk of exposure is too high. The stress of being hypervigilant and monitoring my every interaction with people because I'm the only one consistently taking precautions has started to take its mental toll. I can't do it anymore.

I'm using a sick day to not go into work today. I feel like I'm doing something radical when all I want to do is stay safe. I don't know if I will get in trouble or what will happen. I'm taking it one day at a time. I'm hoping they move school off campus and fully online. I provide a valuable service to my students, but it's not like I'm saving lives here. In fact, I could actually be saving lives if I just stayed home. 

I'm angry I'm even being put in this position. It is their choice to not wear masks. It is my choice to not be around them. However, *their* choice is going to cost *me* money or maybe even my job.

In one way, it's a really hard decision about whether or not to go into work.
In another way, it's not hard at all.

I need to stay home to protect myself, to protect others, and to preserve my mental health. 

Going through infertility really drove home the fact that nobody is living my life except me. 

I can get another job. I can't get another life.

*****

And now for a brain cleanser on a completely different topic...

I finished another quilt. I used precut strips for the quilt top (so easy) and a furry fabric called minky for the back. It has my favorite colors, it's soft and furry, and I love it.

Time to start a new one! 

Below is a picture of the new quilt and a couple of quotes I enjoy. 

Stay safe and take care! 💚💙💜

(Art Credit: The plate is by UK anarcho-craftivist artist Carrie Reichardt, 2018.)

Feeling Gaslit Again

Hello and Happy New Week. How are you? How are you really? 

Don't judge; just notice. Then reflect.

How are you taking care of yourself? How are you being productive? How are you having fun? 

(Yes! Getting out of bed, taking a shower, feeding yourself, and watching tv all definitely counts at this moment in time. You don't have to accomplish anything major. We cannot save the world right now, but we can somewhat save ourselves.)

*****

Please let me draw another parallel between my experience with infertility and this pandemic:

I feel like I'm going crazy.

With infertility, it felt like a constant barrage of judgment from others. What are you sad about? You have all this free time! Think of all the money you will save. You can travel! Kids are a lot of work; you don't really have a clue what you're asking for (despite the fact that I had spent almost 10 years in the classroom working with everyone else's kids all at the same time, not on an individual basis like parents get to do). So many people refused to tolerate or even allow space for my sadness; it felt like no one was acknowledging my loss. I was being gaslit by friends, family, and society as a whole. 

And now we are all enduring a pandemic. And society is gaslighting me again. If it weren't for my boyfriend and fellow bloggers, I would think I was the only person taking the pandemic seriously. 

I am currently going to work because my school district is providing classes and services on campus for students who choose in-person school. That alone freaks me out. And I will be honest, I am one of the few that consistently wears a mask all day. Everyone else takes them off as much as they can. (District policy is you can remove your mask if you're more than 6 feet away from students. This lets teachers lecture at the front of the room so students can clearly see their mouth and facial expressions.) I'm starting a new job in a new town and I am the Weird Mask Girl. It's not that I think I will get it here. It really is a small town in a remote area. It's that there's a GLOBAL PANDEMIC going on and the virus doesn't care about anything. The virus just spreads. I don't want to get comfortable because, quite frankly, it's just not safe yet. But I definitely feel some hater vibes from a couple of co-workers and random strangers around town when I venture into the grocery store (I've been twice at 5:30 in the morning) or the convenience store (more expensive, but more convenient so I've been going once or twice a week).

Then I call my mom for our weekly chat. (It's a new thing and it is working out well. For those of you that don't know, my relationship with my mom is challenging but I want her in my life.) And I learn that my aunt is there visiting. Even my family is living like there aren't more than 6 million infected Americans! My oldest sister went and visited my mom two weeks ago. Her visit marked the FOURTH state she had been in in the past month. And two of those states have high positivity rates. I mean, she voluntarily got on a plane for a vacation ffs!! And then I call my mom and learn her sister/my aunt is now there visiting. Way to contain the potential spread, everyone...

What the hell is going on? Why is my own family disregarding basic precautions? Why do they think I am the unreasonable one for going to the grocery store at the crack of dawn and for refusing to go eat at a restaurant? For my family, this is typical though. I'm the cRaZy one, the overly cautious one, the one that's "too sensitive." But damn, in the middle of a pandemic??

I feel like, yet again, my family and society are gaslighting me. I feel like the world around me is trying to operate like it is pre-March 2020 and it dumbfounds me. It blows my mind. People really, really don't get it. And then I remember enduring infertility with very, very little support.

I guess people just can't stand to be uncomfortable.

*****

I didn't know the skills I learned while figuring out how to cope with infertility would serve me so well during this extremely stressful time in our world. It's hard to say I'm thankful for infertility because it took from me what I desperately wanted: parenting and motherhood, but now that I am many years removed from the direct experience and I have worked incredibly hard on grieving and creating a life I want to live, I can appreciate who I am and what my life is post-infertility. 

*****

As for me, I am doing... Okay. Pretty well probably. I require a lot of sleep these days so I go to bed early. But I am trying my hardest to learn my new job and do a good job while I'm at work all day. Then I come home, eat, and rest. On the weekends I sew. I am so grateful I found something that puts me in the flow where I can forget about the world for a bit. And then when I'm done, I have a comfy quilt to use while reading everyone's blogs. :)

Enjoy your week everyone! 💚💙💜

Take care of yourself, ignore the gaslighting, and do something you enjoy no matter how small.

    I finished my fifth quilt! 

I used: 

• 10" squares, Lucky Day by MoMo for Moda Fabrics
• 10" squares, White Paper Grunge by BasicGrey also for Moda
• Miss Rosie's Quilt Co. Cake Mix Recipe #6 piecing paper
• Quilters Dream Orient quilt batting. 

The precut fabric and piecing paper make it so easy! 

You put a piece of paper on top of two fabric squares and literally sew on the dotted line and cut on the solid line. You end up with great looking quilt blocks! For quilting, I did basic stitch-in-the-ditch around the blocks and tried decorative stitches on the borders for the first time. 

I just learned how to quilt last year so if it's something you are curious about, you can totally do it! It's not a hobby that requires perfection. Well, not the way I do it. I'm a sloppy quilter and will be for years because I am learning. ;) But quilting can be very relaxing.

Sometimes Things Suck

This pandemic sucks. It's stressful; it's scary; it has caused massive unemployment, illness, and death; and it has disrupted every aspect of society. I know you already know this. Wherever you are reading this post, the virus is affecting your country, your livelihood, your life.

And I feel like I'm surrounded by people living in alternate realities.

There's my family's world, which is full of funny videos and memes shared over group text.

There's my school district's world, where they think online instruction is actually happening.

There's the people with kids' world, where they are all jokingly yet desperately hopeful that everything will be back to "normal" in time for summer camps.

Then there's my world, where I am mentally preparing for the worst. I cannot sympathize with parents complaining that they are at home with their kids all day. I have no illusion that my students are learning at home under this stress and lack of structure. I am not laughing at anything about this pandemic.

This pandemic drastically changed how we live our daily lives. I am worried. I am angry. I am sad.

And it's not unlike my experience with infertility. My family made light of it while the rest of society just assumed that, since I dreamed of raising children, I'd follow the norm and become a mom eventually, one way or another.

No. Sometimes there is no "normal." Sometimes things just suck.

💜

Thinking of everyone.
Stay safe, stay home.

Insensitive Sister

I have a new nomination for most insensitive social media post. It used to be one of my best friends from high school announcing her pregnancy with "Never Give Up". But now it is my sister. She posted a picture of her daughter (my niece) saying, "This is my daughter... Wish you were all SO lucky!"

I cannot even make this stuff up.

She wishes we all were so lucky??
Well, we wish so too. At least there's one thing we can agree on.

This sister is not known for her sensitivity. Nope. Not at all. But she was the one I was closest to while growing up. We had a really special relationship. And I believe we will always love each other. But it is not my fault, nor is it my responsibility to deal with, the fact that she is insensitive and, quite frankly, MEAN.

The years that I was trying to conceive were the hardest of my life. I don't want to tempt fate, but it is difficult for me to imagine anything harder than not becoming a mother when it was my lifelong dream to be one. Conception, adoption, I really didn't care about the method or process. I just wanted to raise children. But nothing worked out for me and my husband.

And whether or not it was a healthy practice, I wrote down all of the terribly insensitive things people said to me throughout the years. In one way, it was a way to show myself that I wasn't crazy. That not only was I going through something traumatic but I also had absolutely no support.

Now, for the first time in over three years, I am going to revisit those comments. I saved them in an electronic document and threw that document into a folder that I haven't opened since June 2015. I do not want to overwhelm you or me so I will not copy everything that was said to me. But in light of my sister's most recent "Wish you were all so lucky" post, here is is what she told me during the darkest years of my life:

• "You waited too long."
• "Your eggs are too old."
• "If you weren't so uptight, you'd be pregnant by now."
• "Just stop trying. Everyone I know who is trying doesn't get pregnant."
• "Are you sure you want kids?"
• "You won't understand until you have kids."
• "I don't think you could handle having children."
• (And when I confided in her that I was trying IVF) "First world problems." (What does that even mean?? Wait. Don't answer that. Don't even spend your energy thinking about that.)

Look, I'm not going to begin to understand her psychology or what her problems are. I can read all of those comments now and know that they don't come from a healthy person. But when I was in the thick of it, when I was in the middle of trauma and devastation and facing my worst nightmare, every single thing anyone said to me stung. Every single thing a loved one said to me cut me even worse.

Pay no attention to what my sister said to me. She obviously has her own problems. I love my niece very much. And I am also very sad that I didn't get to raise my own children. 

But I share with you what my insensitive sister said to me so that, no matter what hurtful things a loved one has said to you, you know that are not alone.

I stand with you. I stand beside you as your friend. I stand behind you as a support. And I stand in front of you to guide the way, showing you that life is worth living again.

Failure

Failure is never fun. It never feels good. Especially when you've put your blood, sweat, and tears into your endeavors and have given it your all.

I almost failed high school chemistry. I just didn't understand the subject. And my teacher didn't know more than one way to explain the concepts. I kept doing my homework and studying for the tests, not understanding anything. To this day, I have no idea how I passed.

My first semester in college I had to take chemistry as part of the requirements for my biology major. I was really, really dreading it. But on the first day of class the professor explained his "No Fail" contract. If you went to every class and every review session, turned in every homework assignment on time, and kept a daily journal about what you did and didn't understand from lecture and turned it in at the end of the semester, you were guaranteed at least a D. I was relieved! It was actually going to be impossible for me to fail the course!! So, despite failing every homework assignment and every exam, I kept showing up. I went to all of the review sessions, again not understanding anything. I wrote in my journal every day after class about what the topics were and what I did not understand--which was, you guessed it, everything, but I tried to write in detail about what and how I did not understand. Then at the end of the semester he never asked for our signed contracts or our journals. So I looked up where his office was and trekked over to a part of campus I had never seen and to a building I had never been in. I nervously knocked on his door and he said to come in. I walked in to see a stereotypical scene, a professor writing furiously at his desk surrounded by piles and piles of papers everywhere. He said, "Yes?" obviously not recognizing me. (Chemistry was a very large class.) I said, "You never asked for our No Fail contracts or our journals in class, so I brought you mine to turn in." He stared at me for a second and said, "You did that?" And right then I knew I was the first student he'd had that had ever fulfilled the requirements of the contract. I said, "Well, yes. I don't want to fail the class." He said okay and asked my name and asked me for my journal, trying to find a spot in his office where he could set it down. I shared that chemistry was a difficult subject for me and thanked him for offering the No Fail contract. He smiled, said "you're welcome," and almost seemed entertained by me (but not in a condescending way). And you know what? After failing everything all semester, I got a C! I think by just doing all the requirements of the contract, he bumped my grade up from an F to a C. That is, by far, the grade I am most proud of in my life.

Which brings me to my biology course... It was the first class required for my biology major and the reason why I had to take chemistry in the first place. After going to every class and doing all of the readings, I still, yep, failed every exam. I was very concerned. I had wanted to be a marine biologist since I was a little kid, but how could I if I was failing the basic entry-level biology course? I went and talked to the professor. Who was also the head of the department. To say I was intimidated is an understatement. But he was very friendly and approachable and spent a good amount of time talking with me. Our meeting concluded with him basically saying to do whatever I wanted but he didn't think my calling was to be a biologist. Without putting me down at all, he encouraged me to explore other avenues. I took his advice and enrolled in the most random collection of classes the next semester in an effort to find something I felt passionate about learning. Not understanding the course numbering system, I inadvertently signed up for a senior level sociology course. And I loved it. After turning in our first assignment, the professor asked me what other sociology courses I had taken because she didn't recognize my name. I admitted I was a freshman but requested to stay in the class, assuring her that I knew it was my hardest class that semester and I was committed to putting in the time and the work it required. She let me stay and it was one of my most favorite classes of my life. I had found my new major.

So I've experienced failure. I've experienced disappointment. I've experienced having to change the course of my life when what I was doing wasn't working out.

But nothing prepared me for my "failure" to parent. Nothing.

Losing your children does not compare to failing a class. Not getting to parent and changing your entire life because of it does not compare to changing your major, even if you thought your career was going to be in one field your whole life and then it ended up being in a completely different field. There is no comparison between infertility and anything else.

But here I am. I survived. I survived two and a half years of taking my temperature every morning. I survived over four years of getting my period every month. I survived countless blood draws, injections, and ultrasounds. I survived five failed fertility treatments. I became an expert at failure.

And now I am failing my pediatrics course. Yes, after over 20 years of experience working with children, I am failing pediatrics. Yes, after digging deeper than I ever thought possible to find the will to engage in the world again and recreate my life, I am failing one of my last classes in my last semester of coursework.

I am stressed. I am angry. I am concerned.

I have attempted to set up a conference with the professor, but nothing has been scheduled yet. My classmates keep trying to tell me that it is fine, that it will all work out and that I will pass. But I cannot sit idly by, doing nothing, after everything I've been through.

There is no reason I should be failing. I blame the poorly designed assignments and the extremely poorly written exams. But here I am. I am failing the class.

Just like in the past, I will keep showing up. I will study my butt off for the rest of the semester. I will try to meet with the professor to express my concerns, and I am absolutely documenting my efforts to do so. I am keeping all of my study notes I have written as proof of my efforts and hard work. I will not go down without a fight.

I think I will pass.
I will be okay if I don't.
I am still going to move to a different state, and I am still moving on with my life.

Just like I've done with everything else so far, I will survive.

Another Day, Another Insult

I woke up Tuesday morning and as I got ready to go to school I thought, "I wonder how I will be insulted today?" Sad, isn't it? That I've just come to expect it now...

My question was answered within the first hour of class.

We were discussing a research article and a classmate made the observation that the condition being studied was more prevalent in mothers 30 years old and older. The classmate shared, "This makes me nervous because I am getting close to 30." So regardless of what comments, if any, followed my classmate's comment, the fact is she just shared a very personal (and some would even say very private) worry with our class. And what does the professor do? She blasts all of us, effectively shutting everyone down. I saw it happen before my very eyes. Not only that one classmate, but at least a quarter of the class immediately stopped participating in discussion. And then the professor had the gall to tell us that we were "awfully quiet this morning, even more quiet than usual." Wow. Talk about not being able to read a room... Additionally, talk about being a thoughtless and insensitive person... So what was it that the professor said?

The professor (weirdly looking directly at me, more on that later) said:
"It's a major problem when women wait until they're 35 to have their first child."

Seriously.
She said that.
I can't even make this stuff up.

So... Let's unpack this...

• As I said above, my classmate just shared with the class a very personal concern of hers regarding a very sensitive issue and the professor provided no support and instead fueled her fears.
• My professor, who is not a medical doctor, stated her opinion extremely strongly and aggressively even though it was not necessary or even directly related to what we were discussing that day.
• My professor played into the fears that a lot of my classmates have, who are delaying getting pregnant because they are in this graduate program where we have been explicitly instructed not to get pregnant. (That in itself is messed up. I've said it before, but you cannot dictate other people's reproductive timelines.)
• The professor went on to talk about how women are the most fertile in their teens and early 20s and that it wasn't right that so many women "waited." First of all, I would bet a million dollars that this same woman would judge any teen pregnancy HARD. Don't have them too early (irresponsible), but don't have them too late (idiot), am I right? UGH!!!
• Furthermore, does she really think all people CHOOSE to WAIT? Maybe people don't want to have children until they can, oh I don't know, afford food, clothing, and shelter. Not to mention day care, health insurance, a car, car insurance, and everything else that costs money and adds up quick. Maybe some people don't meet their partner that they want to have a family with until they are 30 or 40. Maybe they spent their 20s overcoming an addiction or an eating disorder or cancer. Maybe a million other things that are out of people's control...

SO. MUCH. JUDGMENT.

I was disgusted. Of course, I had a visceral reaction. My body immediately got warm, and, even though her comments and attitude were so outrageous they didn't even warrant a reaction from me, I still got angry. I looked down, took some deep breaths, sent out love to all of my classmates whose fears were just preyed upon, and pictured my husband who has told me repeatedly, "Just don't cuss anyone out. You are almost done with these classes. Those professors are not worth your time or energy."

I said nothing. I am not here to argue with her. I am not here to educate her on the intricacies involved in the wrong assumptions about childlessness. I am here to learn as much as I can for my future profession (which apparently includes experiencing how I do NOT want to treat my future patients). I am here to keep my head down, mouth shut, and graduate. I cannot fix the culture of that terrible place. Not when the professors hold all the power and have no accountability to anyone.

But later I was thinking about how she looked directly at me when she said it. Now I know I can be hypersensitive, maybe even a little paranoid, but I have come a very long way in my recovery. I don't personalize everything anymore. I have lowered my expectations. I know this world doesn't understand my reality and when people say their ignorant comments it is about them and not about me. But I still thought about how she looked right at me. And then later that day while I was exercising, it clicked.

She knows.
She knows I wanted children and she knows I don't have them.
And she is blaming me.

What a terrible, unhappy person.

I put a couple of pieces of information together in my head. I wasn't doing this consciously. I really want to spend as little energy as possible on those professors and that educational institution. I just want to learn the academic material and graduate with my degree. But my subconscious put it all together and the realization just rose to the top.

There was a short essay I wrote first semester. There was an email I sent second semester. There were the innocuous comments I made when participating in class discussions. I have never explicitly stated anything, but, regardless of her negative traits, she is a very smart woman. She connected the dots and you cannot convince me that she doesn't know, at least in vague terms, that my not having children wasn't my choice.

Wow.

And this makes her cruel and evil.

I have nothing to say to her. I have no points to make. I will not change her mind. But what I can do is reach out to my classmates and agree with them that this woman is not a nice person. We are all sticking together to get through what has been an extremely disappointing experience.

I am fine. Don't worry about me. The situation has reached a point of ridiculousness that it's not even hurting my feelings anymore. I've told all of my classmates that if they ever find themselves in a similar situation in a future job that they should just quit. This is not normal; this is not okay.

Have I mentioned that I'm looking forward to finishing my coursework?

Unwanted Shower Invitation

I haven't thought about infertility much in the last two weeks. That in itself is a small miracle, something I would have never thought possible a couple of years ago. I guess that's a plus side to being so busy you don't have time to think.

But I can share with you something that happened Saturday night. There I was--snuggled in my couch in some comfy clothes with a blanket while I watched a movie. I was warm. I was content. I was happy. My husband was out and I was enjoying a moment to myself where I didn't have to do or think about a single thing.

Then my phone starts going crazy. I'm getting message after message after message, and it really starts to interrupt my enjoyment of the movie. So I look at my phone and I'm confused for a minute. And then I immediately think, what in the hell?

My classmates use one of the many apps available to communicate amongst each other. It's helpful when asking each other questions, clarifying assignment directions, etc. A new group had been created. On a Saturday night. Called Surprise Baby Shower. And everyone was added to it (except for the pregnant classmate obviously because it's a surprise).

I immediately had a visceral reaction. My stomach churned and I felt feverish. I couldn't even really read the messages. Everything looked blurry and I felt a little dizzy. The first message said something about how they're planning a surprise baby shower for so and so on such and such date and could we all please give some money to buy her presents (for her THIRD child) and who all could bring what to eat. At least I think that's what it said. My reading comprehension capability was severely decreased due to my emotions.

Quite honestly, I was pissed. I did not ask to be a part of this party and I sure as hell did not want to be in this messaging group. Plus, they had interrupted my happy, cozy Saturday night.

How presumptuous to think that everyone in our class is emotionally invested in this girl's pregnancy or even interested in throwing her a surprise baby shower!

I left the group. Amidst the barrage of messages that were being hurled my way, I scrolled over to the screen that let me remove myself from the group and I noped out of there as fast as I could.

I know when you leave a group on that app everyone can see it. There would have been a message posted in the group: "Phoenix has left the group." (Well, obviously I'm not "Phoenix" with my classmates so it said my first and last name.) But I didn't care. I didn't want my Saturday night interrupted. I didn't want constant notifications about new messages. I didn't want to get on my phone and see "Surprise Baby Shower" in my list of groups. I. Did. Not. Want. To be. In. That. Group.

So I left.
And I didn't care that everyone could see that I left.
And I didn't care what people may have been thinking.
And I still don't.

I took a couple of deep breaths, texted my husband complaining about the situation, got some reassuring words from him, and went back to my movie, which I thoroughly enjoyed.

One funny thing came out of the situation. On Monday one of my favorite classmates asked if he could talk to me. "Sure," I said. I could tell he wanted to talk about or ask me something privately so we went down the hallway where there was no one. He asked me, "Did you leave that group that so and so created?" I said, "Yes." I think he was surprised that I left the group knowing it was public to everyone. He repeated, "Really?" And I said, "Yep. I didn't ask to be in that group. Get that shit off my phone." And he busted out laughing. He said he laughed so hard and so long when he saw that on Saturday night. He said that he thought to himself, "Well one thing is for sure. Phoenix isn't fake." And then he told me that he loved it and it was the funniest thing he had seen in a long time.

So, hey, I took care of myself and I made my friend laugh. Not bad for a situation I didn't ask for.

I Don't Have Unlimited Resources

I've been waiting for it to happen. It's been awhile so I knew something was coming soon. You know what I mean: hearing a comment that we are all used to. Well, I don't know if we ever get used to them. But we do get used to the idea that they're coming.

"I don't know why she gave up. If she wants to have a kid, she can. There are lots of kids waiting to be adopted."

That's what one of my friends chose to share with me. Her boyfriend said it. Immediately I said, "It's easy to say that when you haven't been in my situation." I was calm, but, honestly, I was so pissed off. Things are so easy to say when you've never had to deal with them yourself. This kid is 25 years old and doesn't even know what he's talking about. I told my friend not to to tell me things like that because it made me hate her boyfriend.

Like I said, it's been awhile since I've had a comment flung my way.

Damn. You want kids. You can't get pregnant. Well, you can always do IVF, right? Or just adopt!

Nothing I can write can convey the anger these thoughts cause me.

Because what the general population doesn't realize is I don't have unlimited resources. I don't have endless money to pursue treatments and adoption. I don't have endless energy. I don't have endless emotional reserves.

I tried until I almost died.

Quite honestly, I wanted to be dead. But what are you gonna do when your lungs are still breathing and your heart is still pumping?

So I've done the best I can. I didn't die and it was up to me to figure out how to live my life. And then someone comes along and says I shouldn't have given up. Who are they to say that? Who are they to judge me? They have no clue what I've been through. They have no clue what it is like to live my life.

So I educated my friend. I told her I tried everything. Without going into details, I told her I tried medical intervention. I tried adoption. I tried relaxing, being patient, and waiting for a fucking miracle. Guess what. Nothing worked. I never got pregnant. I never had a baby. I am not parenting, not in this lifetime.

And then some guy, some kid with no experience, comes along and inserts his opinion into my life?

My friend said she was so sorry for my situation, that she wished she could do something. I took advantage of the opportunity. I told her the way she could help was to educate people when they said incorrect, uninformed things. She could share what all she has learned from me. IVF doesn't always work. Adoption is no guarantee. Everything costs money, not to mention all of the other unquantifiable costs. She said she could and would do that. I hope she starts with her boyfriend.

It was just another reminder of how I live a life that the majority of people don't understand. I'm okay. I've had years of experience at this. This isn't my first month, my first year. It still hurts, stings, and makes me angry. But I find solace in the life that I am creating for myself. Even though I am playing the long game and this last year feels like it's gonna kill me, I know it won't. Nothing has killed me yet.

I am still here.