Well I won’t lie, it’s been a rough few days. If I had to quantify it, I’d say about as rough as Lindsay Lohan’s face multiplied by Donatella Versace’s leathery bum cheeks and raised by a factor of 15 to the power of 10.
I don’t think I’m going to go on about the ERPC, suffice to say I have been ERPC-ed. If you ever feel like you want to know anything about it, drop me a line and I will go into great unlimited detail.
I had a very bad mental episode this weekend which left my poor husband thinking I was having a proper nervous breakdown. I think he is convinced I still am, but I am not so sure. I think I’m sorta on the edge. I feel incredibly anxious and out of control with no plan, but we are contacting a new clinic tomorrow so a plan should be forthcoming.
What else? I’ve drunk too much. I’ve eaten bad food. I look 3 months pregnant. My best friend who on being told I needed IVF 5 months ago was VERY WEIRD, couldn’t stop covering her face and wailing, “Oh God, no no no. This is so terrible, I don’t know what to say” then proceeded to ignore me entirely for the next 5 months, popped back up out of the woodwork the day I went in for the ERPC. I was feeling quite peeved that when I was clearly facing a very difficult time, she had done a bunk for months, but I was busy focussing on IVF and all that
shit jazz. You win an award if you can guess what she had to tell me.* Guess it makes sense why she has been so fucking weird. I have more to say on this and “friendship” in general, but I am VERY PISSED right now so I am going to be all grown up and let the dust settle around my barren sickbed of crisps, wine and pizza before I write a post/draw an angry cartoon.
I am so thankful for all the messages I’ve had from you the last week. It has honestly been the worst few weeks of my life and I really don’t know where I would be without the support I have here. I’m sorry I have been a bad replier again. Lame. I’m getting my shit together now and will henceforth be less lame.
I need something to focus my mind on for the next couple of weeks that isn’t work and isn’t IVF or miscarriage related. I started a painting a while ago and never finished. Partly because I am lazy (mainly because I am lazy) and partly because when I was painting it I was feeling sad, and now it looks sad. People look at it and say, “that looks sad”. Well, perfect. It’s going to be a MASTERPIECE because I am the most fucking sad sad-sack I know. I’m going to show you a picture of my current progress to shame me into finishing it.
I can’t remember why I started writing this post. I’ve just opened a bottle of premium cider which ain’t going to help either. The post title is a line from a Taylor Swift (yeah, shoot me, whatever) song that used to go round and round and round my head in the IVF waiting room. I used to just sit there, looking at all the sad, crumpled faces and that stupid line played in my mind on a loop that never ended.