The title of this post says it all. And you know what? Me and my skinny hamster are perfectly fine with it. In fact, she’s taking a snooze as we speak.
I got some pretty good advice from people after putting up my last post. (Thanks, oh internet peeps!) One of them told me to cut myself some slack, so today (actually this whole weekend) was about doing so.
No worrying about the upcoming travel or all the expectations of new stuff going on at work. No obsessing over relationships and how to “fix” them. No freaking out about how completely messy the house is.
Just me and Hubby; watching a movie, grabbing some Dim Sum, and clearing out our saved TV shows on our DVR.
It’s been a while since I’ve done nothing but the bare necessities and it feels good. Usually I save those days for when I feel completely sick or run down.
And maybe I’m already at the latter … run down and exhausted. But these two days have been restful, relaxing and much needed.
Perhaps I’ve got to do these kind of days more often .
I’m trying to be diligent about updating this blog at least once a week. If anything, let the blog serve as a sort of a routine for my otherwise routine-less life.
Okay, so my life isn’t without routine. Otherwise, why would I be at a tea house on a Saturday afternoon trying to catch up with some work that I can’t seem to get done after my online teaching sessions?
I’m feeling overwhelmed and anxious lately. There seems like there’s so much to do and not enough time to do it. I mean, I’m glad that I’m catching up on some work today outside of my home office, but then that leaves all the other household stuff up in shambles.
To top it off, at the end of this month I’ll be traveling 5 days a week for the next 7 weeks, which – on top of trying to learn a new expense system for work (as well as quite a few new things work has got up her sleeve) – has me at the brink of a nervous breakdown. (Or maybe I’m already there?)
My husband seems to think that I’ve got some really skinny hamster on a wheel running nonstop inside of my noggin. He tells me this because he thinks my mind spins out of control, working overtime about worrying.
And d*mnit if he isn’t right. I just wish I could slow the hamster down enough to allow me to quit worrying about … well, worrying.
So yeah. This is my weak attempt at a post this week. Maybe next week I’ll have something better to talk about.
But for now, it’s all about the “Serenity Prayer” in my mind. That and a warm, huggable Husband is all that keep the hamster in my head at bay …
The irony doesn’t escape me. It’s 5:15 am and –thanks to our dog — who refuses to sleep, I’m wide awake.
It’s not as if I’ve had a difficult time falling asleep … it’s more that I can’t seem to stay asleep. If anything, all I want to do is climb under the covers and fall into a deep, deep sleep. Depression can obviously do that.
And with me, depression can cause waves and waves of anxiety, which only add fuel to the insomnia-fire.
Recently Hubby and I had one of our long discussions (one of many we’ve been having lately). This one happened to start off with an innocent comment our 15-year old nephew had said last Sunday when we met them for lunch.
“Auntie,” he told me, “you look sad” . And I couldn’t tell him any differently, other than to say that I’d been tired a lot lately.
My husband brought that up during our discussion as a means to show me how even a 15-year old could see my depression. And if he could see it, how many other people would see it as well?
All I know is that over the years, I have changed. Oh … I think the heart of me — my center — will never change, but the way I’ve looked at things or approach things have definitely been altered from my life experiences.
I know these thoughts are no different than any other person in their late 30’s/early 40’s. After all, isn’t this when we begin to look back at our lives to where we were and compare them to where we are now? Isn’t this where we reflect back on those dreams we had in our early 20’s and think about whether we’ve achieved them or not?
You see, as I approach 40 this year, this is one of the anxiety-ridden things I think about frequently. I think about our early post-college years where then-fiancé and I would dream about our future together. We’d dream about our married life together; of kids and the large house in the suburbs. We’d talk about how our kids would be into sports or some sort of activities where we would be the proud parents who’d show up with video cams in hand to record such moments. We talked about vacations as families.
And, of course, I also had my dream of wanting to be a Stay-At-Home-Mom for a spell, while waiting for our four (yes, four) kids to all be old enough to go to school. I also dreamt about making friends with other Mom’s; friends of our kids, where we could hang out and commiserate about daily life with kids. I dreamed of arranging playdates and birthday parties and all these wonderful things I could do when I became a mother.
But we all know where those dreams went. Our best laid plans … right down the potty.
While making the decision to live child-free has lessened the “blow” to my need to maternalize (is that even a word?), it hasn’t taken away the fact that I have had to face the “Boulevard of Broken Dreams” when coming to terms with my infertility.
In other words, in order to figure out what our next step in child-rearing would be … Hubby & I had to walk that “boulevard” alone. Together, yes definitely … but alone.
So now that the we’ve passed that boulevard … and even though it’s been almost two years now … what do we do now? What’s our next step? What’s our goal? I know that children aren’t in our future, but so what is our new future?
It’s all of those worries that keep me from having a full night’s sleep. It’s what causes me anxiety in the middle of the night.
Which direction in life do we need to be heading? What we can do with our lives now that we’re closing in on 40 … the decade where we should feel more “settled” in our lives?
It has all the makings of a dreamless night. A night where I’m not sure what our new dream is going to be.
Like the snow in Metro Detroit, I’ve been in and out of everyday life. And like the snow, my mind should be ever present during this particular month, since it’s supposed to be the month of new beginnings; of making resolutions to change things.
But like the snow, I’ve only surfaced in bits in pieces whenever life seems to be most inconvenient.
This depression sucks.
No. I mean literally. It sucks the life and energy out of me. And throw in a (un)healthy dose of anxiety with it … well it just makes life all the more interesting.
I’m trying my best to move past this depression; doing all that I can physically and clinically do, but the weight of this sadness seems to be omnipresent.
Thank God for an understanding Husband; one who has stood by me through thick and thin. He’s been there through the low-hanging, non-anxiety moments and all the way through the high-octane drama-fueled moments. Sometimes I wonder – scratch that – I always wonder how I’ve managed to find my soulmate and my best friend who still loves me despite all the baggage I carry.
If anything, Hubby (and the furkids – although the fur-dog has been on my last nerve lately … ) is the reason why I keep getting out of bed every morning.
Even though I’ve written the occasional post about the grief I’ve been experiencing, I know I’m not usually so outright with my depression. But it has been suggested to me that I start writing more about it, because this seems to be the only outlet where I can openly talk about my struggles.
And although this blog is (and always will be) about living child-free after infertility, I thought that this was my little corner of the universe where I can tell you about my life, both good and bad. So here’s where I lay it out on the line:
I’m still grieving over the death of my father. Between my two parents, it’s become apparent to me over the past year and a half that I truly was a “Daddy’s Girl.” I thrived in the moments when my Dad would play around with me and tease me. And there were the silly jokes the two of us would play on each other that only the two of us would get. And I miss those things horribly.
In the same aspect, I realize how much different my relationship with my Mom has always been; particularly now that my Dad had passed. I’ve always known that we never had that “Mother-Daughter” bond that is constantly seen in movies and TV shows; we’re just two very different people. And without Dad being there as a buffer, this relationship has only intensified … and not always in a positive way.
Even though it’s been over a year since deciding to move back to Detroit, not a day goes by that I don’t miss living in Chicago. I miss the city and the atmosphere. I miss the late night trips to Dim Sum or Korean BBQ with my cousins. I miss walking.
But what I miss the most is that Chicago represented a new life for me. A life where Hubby & I carved out a place for ourselves; where the two of us really started focusing on us as a “Family of Two.” And while I love my hometown and take pride in telling people that I’m from Detroit, I miss that part of our lives where we were just far enough from “home” where Hubby & I could be our own family.
And finally … even though Hubby & I have decided that child-free living after infertility is our life, there are still those days where I worry about our future and what other things in our lives we can contribute to the greater good of our world. Will all I have to show at the end of my life is that I’ve worked hard for a living? That I loved my family and friends to the best capacity that I could? What about my legacy? What will I leave behind? And will I have made a difference in someone’s life? I know now that having kids won’t necessarily “satisfy” or provide answers to all of those questions, but having lost my Dad … and knowing the person he was … this is something that weighs heavily on mind.
I could probably go on with more “issues” that seem to run endlessly through my anxiety-ridden head, but these are the ones that are constantly in my stream of consciousness. These are the things that keep me from doing the things I would normally enjoy doing.
Like reading.
Or knitting.
Or taking pictures.
Or writing.
Or simply watching TV.
But I’m trying … at least I’ll try to work on the writing bit.
And maybe Mother Nature will be kind enough to work on a mild winter for the rest of us.
The day stretched on as if it were the longest day of summer; yet it was the middle of winter. It was only 4:30 pm, but dusk was around the corner; the clouds in the wintery sky making it seem darker than it should be.
She should be doing something to keep her mind busy; anything to take her thoughts off the shades of grief that lay inside the pit of her stomach. Instead, she sat at her local bookstore’s café mindlessly flipping through the latest gossip rags and fashion magazines.
Normally reading such things would entertain her; would make her laugh at such ridiculousness. Or at the very least, inspire her to change her wardrobe to something other than jeans and a t-shirt. But today, she neither felt nor heard nothing but the silent hum inside her head that told her that something about her was defective.
That silent hum had always lived inside of her for as long as she could remember. She never felt pretty enough or smart enough to accomplish anything significant in her life. And although she had a good career and an incredible husband, she never thought she could deserve to be happy.
At times in her life, the silent hum would surface outwardly. When she and her husband found it difficult to start their family, that hum became a silent roar. When she lost her job, the silent roar returned. However, eventually that roar would once again return to a hum.
She knew that her antsy-ness today was because that hum was slowly turning into a roar. She even knew her actions over Christmas was its root cause. But just like those other times, she had no idea how to silence the roar. She had no way of stopping such negative, self-defeating feelings that lay rooted inside of her.
Although she knew she had the support of her husband, her best friend in life … her family … she also knew she would ultimately be the one responsible for taming the beast inside herself.
She also knew that in order to tame the beast, she had to get rid of the hum all together. She had to stop depreciating herself and start to build up that self-esteem.
This will prove to be a difficult task for her; especially since she never particularly had consistent, ongoing self-confidence. Her entire life had been rooted in self-doubt with only fleeting moments of confidence. It would take a lot to rid her life of that silent hum.
What could she do? What *would* she do? She had already sought the help of professionals; she already had the support of her loving husband. The only thing she could do is uproot those thoughts of self-doubt and self-deprecation and replant confidence and self-esteem in its place.
It sounded simple enough; replace the negative with the positive. Believe that the glass is half-full rather than half-empty. Begin to believe in herself.
But why then, did it seem so much more complicated than that? Why does the silent hum persist?
There, I’ve said it. And I’m not ashamed to admit that the smell of bacon brings back memories of cooking breakfast for my parents when I was in my pre-teenage angst years. You know, back when I was a relatively obedient kid who only wanted to do something nice for her parents.
And the taste …. Oh, the taste! Nothing completes a great breakfast like bacon can. Especially those thick, maple-cured strips that they serve up at Original Pancake House.
I mean after all, there is the saying that nothing can make a vegetarian go pro-meat more than bacon can.
I’m guessing that with all this talk about bacon, you’ve figured out by now that I’m not the healthiest person in the world. And it’s true. I’m hypertensive. I’ve got high cholesterol (no surprise there!). And I’m at high risk for heart disease.
And given the events over the past year, I guess you can say that I’ve been lax at keeping myself healthy. In fact, you could probably say that I went the opposite of healthy. What can I say? I’m an emotional eater.
In fact, I’m not just that; I’m an emotional over–eater. When things get tough or stressful, not only do I munch on chips or chocolate or candy … I over-indulge myself with them. And because of that I’ve gained a significant amount of weight over the past year.
So what does this all have to do about bacon?
Yesterday, at one of Hubby’s work-related events, we had sat with some friends and another couple I had just met for the first time that night. Somehow (and I can’t exactly remember how) the subject turned to bacon. (I mean, really. When does bacon come up in a conversation?!) That’s when I learned that the German word kummerspeck … which is the excess weight one gains from emotional overeating … literally translates to “grief bacon.”
So there you go. Now I have a name for all the weight I’d gained.
But lest you’re worried, Hubby & I have been making efforts to regain our health. First off was joining a gym to make time for some weight training and daily cardio. Second is re-learning to eat healthy again. Third … and this is the most difficult … is maintaining the motivation to keep up with both.
I guess this means I won’t be eating too much bacon in the near future …
Going through Infertility has brought me many things in my life; both good and bad. But seeing that today is Thanksgiving, I thought I’d share with you what I’m actually thankful that Infertility has given me. So here’s my list:
The Weight: With all those pills and shots taken over the years, I can thank IF for all that added weight gain. Of course, it’s also my un-doing that I refuse to eat any healthier or exercise any more than needed to get rid of my “not-so-pregnant” belly! On an upswing? Bigger boobs.
Speaking of shots … oh, those wonderful shots! I can thank IF for all the bruised areas on my thighs and abdomen I had when going through those medicated cycles. It’s not so much that I don’t know how to give a shot — I *am* a Registered Nut — I mean Nurse. It’s more the fact that I can proudly poke myself like a human pin cushion and not be scared about it anymore. In fact, if I had to do it again … Nah, nevermind.
Speaking of needles … I’d like to thank my body for producing enough blood so that those vampires — I mean Phlebotomists — can take all the vials of blood they need to run their tests. But I also want to thank those blood-suckers — I mean Phlebotomists — for being so kind and patients; especially when I was having a particularly rough day.
In fact, I’m thankful for all those health care workers (from the nurses, to the receptionist … even the Ultrasound tech) for being so wonderful. In the throes of IF, I may have shot imaginary daggers at your back or given you dirty looks when you weren’t looking … but reflecting back on those moments, you have all been so kind to me.
In fact, there have been lots of kind folks out there that I should be thankful for. Many of them are you, as readers of my humble blog. I’ve “met” the most compassionate women out in the blogosphere that “get me” sometimes more than the people I know IRL (in real life). So to you … my readers and commenters, both past, present and future … I’m grateful that you’ve graced my life.
For those folks that I know IRL that have been willing to listen to my stories of Infertility … I can’t begin to tell you how much it means to me. For so long, I did not have anybody (but Hubby, of course) to listen to our “War Stories” … so for anyone IRL that has lent me their ears or provided me with the empathy I so desperately needed, I am forever in you debt.
I’m also indebted to Infertility for giving me back the gift of writing. It’s something I’ve always loved to do as a young kid, but something that I could never take on as a “career.” So I’m thankful for my tiny space in the Cyberworld where I can continue to write (as often or as seldom as I’d like) about my world; about my feelings. And about my thoughts, as crazy as they can be.
And to be honest, if it wasn’t for writing about my Infertility, I wouldn’t have been able to come to some sort of closure with my Infertility journey … even if it wasn’t the outcome I expected. So there. I’m thankful that writing about IF has opened up a new path to my “new” future.
Not only am I thankful for my blog and the ability to write … I will always be thankful for those IRL family and friends that read and acknowledge my blog. For the longest time, this blog was the only way that I could tell people about my Infertility so that I could “save face” in my culture. Knowing that I could still tell my story and yet not feel ostracized in the presence of my family and those Filipino family friends has been an absolute Godsend. It has given me strength in the midst of adversity.
But the most important thing I’m grateful that Infertility gave me is my relationship with my husband. Nothing more has tested our wedding vows more than Infertility has. It brings new meaning to the words “In sickness and in health” and “For better or worse.” I know many couples that can say the same thing and have gone through adversities (even those who had gone through other crises other than Infertility) that know exactly what I mean. My marriage is stronger because of Infertility and my love for Hubby has grown deeper than I ever thought it would. It’s thanks to Infertility that I know the meaning of unconditional love; one that will last through the test of time … with or without children in our lives.
So those are the things that I’m grateful that Infertility has given me. I’m sure I can come up with more things to be thankful about … and not necessarily good things, but I’m trying to stay on the positive side these days. So I think I’ll leave those parts out.
How about you, oh IF internet peeps? What are you thankful that Infertility has given you?
And for those non-IF folks … it is Thanksgiving, after all. Tell me what you’re thankful for.
I can’t believe I actually have time (and energy) to write today. Perhaps it’s the fact I’m en route (and in the air), anticipating a nice reunion with Hubby. And the fact that I’m kinda caught up with work things for now. Either way, I’m feeling somewhat inspired today.
I flew out to Southern Georgia this week for a training session at a regional hospital in the area. It was a one-day session, so ultimately I should have flown back yesterday evening instead of today. Except the closest airport to this town was approximately a 3-hour drive. Even if my session ended when it was supposed to end at 5 pm, I would have never made it back to Jacksonville, FL in time to catch the latest flight back to Detroit. So instead, I’m catching the earliest flight back to Detroit today. Non-stop, of course!
Since my flight didn’t leave until noon, I thought I’d take full advantage of being close to the ocean. Just like I did a couple weeks ago when I was down in Miami (South Beach, baby!) But since I had a limited time, I thought … what better way to dip my toes in the water by watching the sun rise over the Atlantic Ocean? So early this morning, I sat on the beach to watch the sun hide behind clouds; watching the clouds progressively change hues. It wasn’t the best of sunrises; definitely not any type of “golden hour” scene. But it was beautiful, nonetheless.
As I sat on the beach, I reflected on how much I still love the ocean; still love being around water. And no matter that it was cloudy and that I felt drops of rain splatter onto me, I felt peaceful, content and – for a brief moment – happy.
I knew sometime in mid-July that, despite being on medications, my clinical depression had started to resurface. (Which, if I would have read back at some of my previous posts, I might have realized this a lot sooner.) The precipitating factor – or rather the event that forced me to re-seek treatment – was when Hubby & I officially moved all our stuff from Chicago back to Detroit.
It makes sense, looking back now, that I would need to feel weighted down by everything; to feel the constant fatigue associated with depression. It makes sense now why I couldn’t even to get out of bed; why I couldn’t stop the racing thoughs of anxiety that would keep me up at night … or, at the very least try to relax. The truth is that in the span of a year, I had livedthroughmanystressors that could have easily sent any other person running up a mountain, only to jump off the cliff.
Not that I’m saying that my stressors were any worse than anybody else’s stressors. (After all, I’m not writing this to complain about my life.) I’m just stating the facts.
I look back at 2010 in awe of myself; of having survived through one of the most stressful years of my life. (And by that, I do mean that there were both bad and good stressors.) “But why am I feeling so miserable now?,” I remember asking myself in the beginning of August.
I had no answer at that time, but today I realize that this was exactly what happened when dealing with my depression the first time around. But that time, it took three years after my failed IVF to realize that I hadn’t even begun to deal with my loss. At least this time, it only took 9 months from the last major life-stressor to realize I needed help again. And two months from mid-July to finally do something about it.
I’m slowly beginning to feel the fog lift. And by slow, I think of the “Slowsky” turtles in that one TV commercial (who, coincidentally, just recently had a baby … WTF?). Over the past year, there have been moments of bright colors scattered amongst the other days of gray. There were those days where I felt brave enough to face the world amongst those other days where I just didn’t want to deal with anything. But it seems like that those moments of happiness – brief as they can be – are happening just a tad more frequently than before. And I guess that’s something to be proud of.
One thing is for certain … even when the sun goes down in life, it eventually rises again. Here’s hoping for brighter days ahead.
There’s this phone commercial on TV that makes me sick every time I watch it.
I mean, yeah … it makes me so mad, but it really produces this awful awful lump in my throat.
Well here. Let me know what you think:
I swear … I get so angry that it makes me want to smack the living daylights out of this woman!
Okay, so the guy does appear to look rather — ahem — nerdy. But as I look at the other things surrounding the commercial, it appears to me that he is a guy that would do anything for his family. And his wife.
For example, unless the woman is a self-made millionaire who can afford a greenhouse separate from the house … who do you think agreed have one built on their property? The husband.
Who apparently encourages her to enjoy her own gardening past time? The husband.
And yet, this wife apparently has no respect for him.
I don’t know about you … but I could never be that disrespectful to the person I vowed to love and honor for the rest of my life.
Hubby & I arrive at Hogwarts!
But maybe that’s exactly it. Maybe there are couples out there that act like that around each other. And maybe that’s why watching this commercial makes me sick; because I would hate knowing that there are people out there that may be married (or may stay married) and treat each other with such disrespect.
Don’t get me wrong. I understand that people can “fall out of love” with one another. And I can understand that there are certain circumstances in a person’s life that would make a person marry (or stay in an unhappy marriage) for something other than love. I can also understand why certain circumstances can lead a couple to divorce.
What I don’t understand is how a person can just be downright disrespectful to someone else; circumstances or none. You can hate the situation you currently find yourself in, but don’t blame (or hate) anyone else for your current situation but your own self. And certainly don’t disrespect someone just to spite them.
I guess this commercial gets me so riled up because I can’t see myself ever acting that way with my Husband. Okay, I admit that I may have occasional disrespectful thoughts, but: 1) I would never ever say them out loud and in front of him, and 2) they’re literally fleeting thoughts that quickly get dismissed when I realize exactly how much Hubby means to me.
If there’s onething that Hubby & I have gotten right in our life together is that we have a good solid marriage. While I don’t mean to be arrogant by making that statement, I do know that we’ve heard from other couples … other friends, that the two of us together are a great couple.
But here’s the thing. Although we appear to be such a great couple to people we come in contact with … keeping our marriage together is not an easy task.
Marriage is hard. And it’s definitely not something you can dismiss lightly with a passive-aggressive statement like, “Mother was right. I should have married John Clark.” It takes a lot of patience, understanding and mutual respect for one another to make things work. And it especially takes honest and open communication / open dialogue to keep the marriage working.
15 Years of Marriage and still in love …
I can’t dismiss the fact that Hubby & I (as college sweethearts) have grown into our marriage together; and therefore haven’t experienced some of the things that a couple married later in life (and likely with more “dating” experience) has. But I do know that past experiences can affect how one may react while in current and/or future relationships.
But I also can’t dismiss that Hubby & I have also gone through our own experiences that have challenged our marriage in many ways.
Think about how we found out that we couldn’t have children the “traditional” way.
Think of the risks we took trying to finance infertility treatments that only had a certain percentage of working.
Think about the decision we made to move to Chicago and now the decision to move back to Detroit.
Think of the roller-coaster of emotions it took to finally come to the decision to live child-free. Or the emotions of having to deal with the unexpected death of a parent.
Now imagine what our marriage would be like if we didn’t love and respect one another. If we didn’t have honest and open dialogues. Think of how hard it would be to go through everything we did without having each other’s back.
So yeah, I think that’s why that commercial makes me sick. And I hope that I’m not the only one out there that feels the same way …
So what do you have to say, oh Internets? What do you think of this commercial? What are your thoughts about marriage?
Tomorrow all the kiddos in Detroit and its surrounding suburbs will officially all be back in school. Which always prompts me to question … why didn’t I go into a career that allowed me to always have summers off?
I’m not ready for autumn … which, if today’s weather in Metro-Detroit is any indication (high of 64 degrees), means that I’m definitely not ready for the cooler climate. And, seeing that autumn has always been my favorite season is absolutely pitiful.
Maybe I need to re-think this whole “favorite season” deal.
Even the Lil Texan thought the MI weather was too hot last week!
After all, Hubby & I did survive the sweltering high-90 degree weather with 100% humidity of Orlando. Like we did the previous two days here in Detroit, which were just as hot and humid. All I need is a beach nearby with some nice soothing waves … and I’d be golden.
Okay, maybe not so much “golden” but more “bronze.” After all, I tan nice and brown … like most of us Filipinos do. But you get the point.
Yet seeing that Hubby & I live in the Midwest with (unfortunately) no plans to move to a warmer climate in the immediate future, I suppose I need to embrace what I’ve got in front of me.
So with that said, here’s my list of things I look forward to doing with Hubby this fall:
Leaves changing brilliant hues of red and orange
Freshly-made Apple Cider and warm doughnuts
Haunted Houses and Hayrides
A resurgence in my need to knit and crochet
College Football – GOBLUE!
How about you, oh Internets? What’s your plans for Fall?
My husband seems to think that I’ve got some really skinny hamster on a wheel running nonstop inside of my noggin. He tells me this because he thinks my mind spins out of control, working overtime about worrying.
I can’t believe I actually have time (and energy) to write today. Perhaps it’s the fact I’m en route (and in the air), anticipating a nice reunion with Hubby. And the fact that I’m kinda caught up with work things for now. Either way, I’m feeling somewhat inspired today.
As I sat on the beach, I reflected on how much I still love the ocean; still love being around water. And no matter that it was cloudy and that I felt drops of rain splatter onto me, I felt peaceful, content and – for a brief moment – happy.
Not that I’m saying that my stressors were any worse than anybody else’s stressors. (After all, I’m not writing this to complain about my life.) I’m just stating the facts.
I’m slowly beginning to feel the fog lift. And by slow, I think of the “Slowsky” 
