sometimes i just want to die…
really feelin’ the sadness of the last year tonight.
my would-be due date is this thursday. well, my FIRST due date. my second one is yet to come. can’t wait to have a breakdown on march 21st.
another one of my co-workers is pregnant. i faked a smile & feigned excitement for her. inside i felt nothing.
my infertility has taken so much away from me. i no longer trust my body. i feel more broken than ever. completely damaged.
and all around me are women getting pregnant. having easy pregnancies. no complications. they will probably never know what it feels like to lose one, let alone FOUR pregnancies. three of which happened in the last year.
i am a wreck. and i’m drinking. and i just feel so empty inside.
infertility is a weird beast. people tell me that i can always adopt or that it just wasn’t meant to be. those people can fuck right off.
i wanted MY baby. i wanted to feel MY child grow inside my changing body. i wanted to give birth to MY offspring. i wanted to have MY spawn latch to my tit, to give MY little one nourishment. i wanted so badly to be a mom.
this is not something i can just get over. i don’t think i’ll ever get over it, these losses.
i wish i had other things to say. i wish my mind would stop straying back to what could have been. what never will be.
i am always amazed i can even get out of bed in the morning.
At the same time that society hates mental illness, though, it’s surprisingly vocal when it comes to the use of psychiatric medications and therapy to manage mental illness. Taking pills makes you ‘weak’ and not able to ‘just handle it,’ while therapy is useless and suspect, something that people are only brainwashed into thinking is useful. People who pay to talk to someone for an hour (or more) a week are clearly, well, you know. Crazy, and the entire mental health profession is obviously raking it in by deceiving all these people with their silly notions of ‘treatment’ and ‘management.’
The disdainful attitude when it comes to managing mental illness is at utter odds with social attitudes about mental illness. If crazy people are so awful, if we’re told that it’s ‘okay to be crazy so long as you act sane in public,’ how are we supposed to be less crazy if we can’t actually get any treatment? This paradoxical attitude is widely in force in society and people don’t seem to realise how absurd it is; if they think that, for example, schizophrenia is a scary and dangerous disease that turns people into monsters, uh, wouldn’t they want people with schizophrenia to be able to access whichever treatments help them manage their mental health condition most effectively?
the boyfriend came home sober. the boyfriend came home with the news that he switched his hours so we can have a shared day off. the boyfriend came home with a smile, a hug, a kiss.
our life ain’t perfect. we are a work constantly in progress. but we love each other, we do we do.
i feel a comfort i haven’t felt in almost three months.
i am beyond grateful.
i kinda love this shirt. it’s got a ruffled lapel for crissakes! i feel like i should be working for e. edward grey. i’m your secretary. i’m your secretary.
having a diva-type day. listening to lady gaga & amy winehouse & madonna and playing dress up and lip-syncing and making kissy-faces in the mirror.
i don’t want to be doing housework. i don’t want to be waiting for my clothes to dry. i don’t want to worry about money or having to go to work in the morning.
i wanna go play in this winter wonderland. i wanna femme it up. i wanna flirt and talk shit and be provocative and get laid.
i’m too fabulous to be so complacent. i’m only thirty.
found my old zenni optical glasses. the rx is too weak now & they’re scratched up n crooked but, by-golly!, i still dig them. (gonna get new lenses up in these puppies.)
i feel really fucking down and out.
i can’t tell if i’m sick, sad, or pregnant. (definitely sad. probably sick. god forbid i’m knocked up again.)
i’m listening to the jim carroll band and i’m missing my dad. he introduced me to the brooding glory of jim carroll when i was 14. (maybe that’s part of the reason i’m so fucked up.)
tony couldn’t fly! tony died!
i’m eating strawberry ice cream and wishing it was a cupcake or two. (whenever i start craving sweet cakey bakery there’s a good chance i’m pregnant.)
wouldn’t that be ironic? pregnant (AGAIN) with a baby from a dude i’m not even sure i want to be with anymore. no, that’s not true. i DO want to be with him. well, some of the time.
wouldn’t be even more ironic if i was pregnant with a baby from a dude i’m not even sure i want to be with anymore AND the pregnancy was viable?
GOOD ONE, IRONY!
i haven’t taken a test yet and i just had a period type thing two weeks ago. i’m sure this is just what it feels like to come off of hormonal birth control while in the midst of seasonal affective disorder. i’m so fucking fertile and yet it’s not certain i’d be able to bring a pregnancy to term.
i’m cold and i want to take a HOT HOT bath. but i’m actually afraid to take a bath cos if i AM knocked up a hot bath wouldn’t be the best thing for my growing zygote.
yeah, i’d keep it. duh. cos i’m an idiot.
this is all so idiotic. my life. my body. my relationship. my brooding goddamn ANGST. what am i, 15 again?
my elbows ache and i can’t decide if i want to cry, sleep, cut myself, take that bath, swallow some pills, swallow some drinks, write some words on some paper, wax depression on tumblr (always, bitch), just sit here.
I DON’T KNOW WHAT I’M DOING WITH MY LIFE AND IT FEELS AWESOME AND DANGEROUS!
(it also feels absolutely horrible.)
i’m a featured reader at the riverwest public house’s spoken word night (New Word Document) at the end of the month. i should probably write some missives for THAT and not jerk off on the keyboard via tumblr.
It’s like drowning but you just won’t fucking die.
|—||Urban Dictionary definition of unrequited love (via c-isnenegro)|
"i am so unhappy in my relationship"
adding veggies to oil in stock pot.
"i am so unhappy about my life in general"
stir, stir, stir.
"i want to remember what falling for someone HARD feels like"
tossing in the butternut squash.
"he’s an alcoholic who WON’T get help. i should just LEAVE him"
"but he loves me and holds me at night and smells like home"
a splash of oil, throwing in the pattypan squash.
"but he also smells like fuckin’ whiskey & it’s gross & i hate it"
stir, stir, FUCKING stir.
"i’m enamored with this new guy. he says all the right things but he doesn’t know they’re right or that i’m listening so closely"
chopping the potatoes i forgot about, almost slicing a finger open.
"fuck my stupid relationship. i want a fresh start"
chucking the goddamn potatoes in the pot.
"but we’ll be okay. i can’t leave. i love him i love him i love him"
stirring so hard my elbow goes numb.
"i don’t know what i want out of life and i’m never happy anyways so who the fuck cares"
garlic, curry powder.
"all i want is to love so hard and be loved so hard in return"
pouring in vegetable stock.
"i don’t care that i can’t have his baby. or any baby for that matter. i don’t care that he’s got liquor dick every time we attempt to fuck"
stirring slowly, calmly.
"i don’t need sex. or affection. i need a friend. or two. maybe i should see my therapist again"
"fuck that fucking bitch. waste of time and money"
a cup of rice, two cups of lentils. stir, stir, stir.
"i am so unhappy. but i’m not drinking for a while. and i’m in a band now. and i’m writing again, creating again. i’ve been okay before and i’ll be okay now. there’s no where to go but right where i am"
placing the lid on the stock pot.
"i am OKAY. this soup smells amazing"
why is monogamy so fucking difficult for me?
(i’m listening to songs: ohia cos of you. i’m feeling sad cos of you. soon you’ll have california sun and i’ll have words left unsaid, a future that never was.)
i just want to crawl in a goddamn hole.
i demand a new life. the one i have now sucks. and it’s not completely my fault. getting help is half the the hassle. hasslehoff.
hey! he’s a drunk, too!
right now i’m not sure about anything.
last night it was a three a.m. fight about alcoholism and why the fuck do we even try? it was followed by tears and kisses and sex that felt awkward.
i fell asleep wondering if i’m making the right decisions.
now i’m haunted by warm brown eyes with lashes so long any femme would kill for them. i’m full of coffee and damp from the rain. i hate winter but i might not want this one to end.
and i’m sure these feelings are not reciprocal and i KNOW it’s better that way. and i wish my heart didn’t have all this room for love. love that can stray.
i keep thinking about quitting drinking. i keep thinking about how selfish people can be. i keep myself awake enough as it is wondering WHAT THE FUCK AM I DOING WITH MY LIFE?!?!
and now it can get even worse.
trapped in my head and my heart. listening to sparklehorse. people come into your life for a reason, right?
why are you here? right now? and why will you be gone, come spring?
what does it all mean? what does it all mean? what does it all mean?