Therapy.January 7, 2011 at 10:58 am | Posted in And I ran (I ran so far away), Heartbreak | 20 Comments
The past two days have been two days of absolute SHIT.
Quarter end close at work, STILL doing detail work which is neither my strong suit nor my interest. Under a deadline. So I spend two of the three day close on THAT stuff before I can even get to my OWN areas.
argument conversation with boss where he basically tells me my stress is my own fault because I chose to take last week off.
You know, to visit my family. Which we do every FUCKING year. To see my grandparents who are just shy of 90. To have O get to see his own grandparents.
And you know, when they die, I’m DEFINITELY going to wish I spent more time at WORK to allegedly get ahead of what apparently are now MY tasks then spending time with them.
And then, of course, I’m looking down the barrel of another stim cycle and still struggling.
Because even though I SEE there’s hope that we might bring home a sibling for O from the whole process (I mean, really. Two fresh transfers = two positive hpts. One live birth, mind you, but two positive pee sticks), all I can focus on is the anger that we need to do this in the first place.
I’m so frustrated with my husband, who is really trying to make things easy on me. He’s such a good man, and I can’t see it. So I’m an asshole that I can’t appreciate him or what he does.
And even worse… I’m feeling so far removed from being intimate with him, not only because of my frustration, but because of some weird feeling that I’m broken and don’t deserve to feel good.
I’m stressing about the fact that every night I think to myself that I need to call my uncle, to check in with him and see how he’s managing. When I can’t manage to make the call?
I feel like a complete shit ass coward. Because his pain is so much more than mine, and I can’t get past it.
Yeah. Bad couple of days.
It all came to a head yesterday. And I took an online “are you clinically depressed?” quiz.
I checked nearly every symptom.
Sleep issues? Check. Weight gain/loss? Check. Loss of interest in regular activities, including sex? Check. Difficulty concentrating, or making decisions? Check. Feelings of guilt, helplessness, and/or worthlessness? Check. Irritability, restlessness? Check. Aches, pains, or digestive issues that do not ease with treatment? Check.
About the only one I do NOT have is thoughts of suicide. Though I confess I have thought seriously about running away from my life… I saw what Amy’s suicide did to her family, and it’s not even an option for me.
(So have no fear – I won’t DIE. I’ll just be miserable forever.)
Even checking all the boxes I did, I was still surprised when the results suggested to me that I might be “severely depressed.”
I mean, seriously. Severe? That seems sort of exaggerated.
But it was a wake up call.
I know enough about myself that I’m not strong enough to do this myself. I need help. I need someone to help me find some way to cope with all of this, to help me move forward out of this stuck place I’m in.
So I called someone yesterday. A therapist, one that had infertility on her site, but who also runs a local healing arts center. I left a voicemail, but I made the call.
I have no idea what’s going to come of it.
But last night, when I finally told J all of this, and how I needed some help in figuring this all out, and he agreed, and told me he supported me 100%…
In some weird way, I felt BETTER.
I slept better than I have in weeks.
And I got up early for my run, because I missed it yesterday. I was expecting another frustrating push-pull experience, where my legs want to go faster than my lungs.
But it was GOOD.
Better than good, actually. I felt strong, and my pace was confident but not too fast.
And when my anthem came on, the one that signifies my November of loss, the one that helps me really FEEL the grief, I ran harder.
And though I can never get through the song with choking up – it’s always the line the hardest part of ending is starting again – somehow running helped me CHANNEL it.
I could get it out, run THROUGH it, break through that ice that’s holding me in this Stuck Place.
I listened to it twice. The first time I really allowed myself to FEEL.
The second time, I got ANGRY. With every footfall I thought FUCK YOU, INFERTILITY. FUCK YOU, GRIEF.
And I finished my last mile strong. I went home, smiling.
It was the best run I’ve had in MONTHS, even before my half marathon in October.
I SO needed it.
I know enough that this happy isn’t going to last. But I CAN actually feel happy.
And I’m working on the rest of it.