Tuesday, January 24, 2012

No... I'm pretty fucking far from okay.

Are you okay?


People spit this question at me constantly, it seems.  Sometimes from well-wishers, sometimes from those genuinely concerned, sometimes from dicks that only want to seem interested so they can talk about themselves for a half-hour.  It's getting fucking old.  Just for a little while, I'd like to talk to someone about my life without apologizing for my misfortune at the end of it.  Moreover, I'd like to just be honest with one of them every once in a while.  I offer the standard, automatic response... I'm fine, thanks.  Mostly because I don't want to get into it all.  People tend to get all weird when you say you think you might be dying soon because your heart is acting like a psychotic homicidal crackhead with multiple personality disorder.  They have no idea what it means when you say you break inside a little bit every time someone talks about their kids because you're slowly coming to the realization that you'll never, ever have any.  These also seem like fantastic reasons to keep my mouth shut and not really tell anyone how I'm feeling.  That said, I'm also grateful for those who actually care and feel more than a little regret for lying to them constantly.  I know I said I was fine; I am not.

I tried to take a break from all this.  The "I'm sorry"s were getting to be too much and because I know I won't be getting a "congratulations" any time soon, I'm going to settle for nothing at all.  I planned on focusing my efforts back onto my weight and my house.  They seem like much better areas to obsess over; certainly areas that I might actually accomplish something real and productive.  Unfortunately, this is the time that my heart decides to lose its fucking mind.  I don't really want to go into it here but the docs have put a hold on TTC for now until they figure out if my irregular heartbeat is benign or something that could actually do some damage.  I was happier when the break was my choice.  It's funny how perspective can cause so much irrational anguish.

Of course, it doesn't help that I've recently had a carrot dangled in front of my face and then jerked away.  My husband knows a woman at work that was looking for adoptive parents for someone in her life.  Unfortunately, the birth mother decided that she'd go to rehab and the judge revoked the order to remove her child from her care at the hospital (she's due in April).  Now I get to think about how much better of a life I could give to this child but won't get the opportunity to do so.  I know it's presumptuous and likely judgmental but I can't help it.  There isn't a single aspect of this that's fair... only situations that solidify the opposite.  Hell, who knows whether or not I would have even been accepted as an adoptive parent.  You still have to do a home study in Missouri, private adoptions included, and the courts hesitate to give a child to a person with an incurable, possibly fatal disease.  Maybe it would work out if I could get my doctors to convince the judge they doubt I'll be dying soon.  Maybe rehab will be just too much and the adoption will be back on.  Maybe one of these days I'll stop wanting to cry every time I see a child.  Maybe I'll wake up tomorrow not wanting to be a mommy after all.  Maybe I'll soon spot a herd of pigs flying out of the asses of random passersby.

Fuck.  Lets talk about something else for a while.