Who am I kidding?
I think we fool ourselves a lot in this game.
This time, I thought I believed it. I really thought I was OK. I probably was. Things were going well. I have been feeling fine (even if I can't make the haircut look like my hairdresser did).
And then, another piece of news ... another pregnancy ... another friend passing you by ... and any composure you had fought so hard for is gone.
Tonight, I sit here crying again.
The fat drops fall, echoing the falling drops on the window. Red rimmed eyes and a half-hearted attempt at pushing food around the plate. Drain the glass and leave the table, the pressure of normality too hard. A hug feels agressive, unwanted, no comfort, pushed away and another hurt in the air.
Avoid, indulge, turn the other way. Attempt a smile but it fails to land. Try to explain but the language is foreign and the chasm is deep, filled with sharp, pointed spears and the effort seems futile. Retreat to the dark once again.
The dark is comfortable and familiar. A welcome return. The light was too bright and the suffering forgotten. A foolish mistake. It can never be forgotten. It can never be erased. The shadows haunt and beckon. They hold the truth.
Drag the weight along the path of hazards. Trip and stumble, alone. Crumpled and broken, the fat drops fall again, leaving wet holes in the dust of despair. The path ahead in darkness. The path behind, dark too. The only light, a pinpoint of uncertainty. Nothing to grasp or hold.
Hope begins to fade.
Is it time to let go of this dream? It only seems to bring pain.
posted by StellaNova @ 9:58 pm
16 comments
16 Comments:
Oh Stella, I know just how that feels. When the pit opens and you wonder, “What’s the point?” And while I can’t tell you whether or when it’s time to let go of the dream, I can tell you that I admire you so much for all you’ve done so far in the service of it, in spite of all the pitfalls and setbacks you’ve come across. No matter how dark things look right now, always remember that you’re strong, you’re brave, and you have us here in the computer to lift you up when you feel like you’re falling.
Lots of love to you.
I don't know when it's time to quit but I do know how it feels to watch another friend achieve our elusive dream.
Sometimes, when I'm having a great day, I suddenly remember that I'm infertile and the past years of heartbreak come crashing back. I get mad at myself for forgetting our dismal situation because the crash back to reality is fierce. Then again, I cherish those hours when IF is far from my mind.
Your last paragraph says it so well. Thanks for putting such beautiful, insightful words to our ugly plight. Thinking of you, L.
Stella, I'm so sorry the darkness has returned.
Sometimes all it takes is news that someone else is pregnant and that's enough to push us over the edge.
And even though we all feel so alone at times, there are a bunch of us out here in the blogosphere who are here to support you on the really, really difficult journey to parenthood.
Sometimes it seems pointless, other times we hold out hope. I guess it's just about putting one foot in front of the other, as best we can.
I hope you're feeling better soon. Take care of yourself.
Stella - I'm so sorry you're feeling like this. It comes in waves. Any type of grief does. And when that wave hits, it's such a sad and desperate place, and you just want out - no matter how.
Make any decisions in the fullness of time.
And I hope the wave retreats soon, and you can walk a little taller again.
That was a beautifully written post.
Bea
Hi Stella,
It is a fine line we walk - anything can tip us over into darkness from which it is so hard to climb.
The news of other pregnancies can be so hard to take - sometimes they feel a lot more like your loss then their gain. Sometimes they they feel like a farewell to a friend.
I hope hurt abates a little and a new hope finds a way in - soon.
You've captured it so well. I think I know how I'm doing, and then something seemingly insignificant throws me completely.
Thinking of you.
It is unfair that the lightness can turn to darkness without even the flip of a switch. We fight so hard to be in a good place and that hope can be shattered so easily. Your post is beautifully written. I hope you feel better soon.
sometimes it seems that some of us are destined to eternally wave on friends who pass the double line test and then be left to pick up the peices of our shattered hopes and dreams alone.
I'm so very very sorry your hurting I know there arn't any words to make any of this any easier to bear but we're here for you and we listen really really listen and can hear each crack in the carefully constructed wall we each build, because we understand and heart you big time.
You are so very eloquent Stella. I only wish that I had some eloquent comfort to give you in return.
Please know that I'm thinking of you...
The piece you is beautifully witten but painstakingly so true. It would be a lie to say I totally know what you are going through, but at least I can understand what it's like as I am going through the same thing at the mo.
I've been married for 2 years now and every now and then I see friends who got married later than I did got pregnant. It's even more difficult in the part of the world where I come from, where a baby usually comes exactly nine months after the wedding.
I, too, can never tell anyone that I am planning, and have been giving everyone the lame old excuse that I am waiting to complete my master's reserach. Which doesn't look like it's ever going to finish anytime soon.
Hang in there, Stella. We are all in this together.
Grrr. I think we've all been there. Repeat after me, "Temper tantrums are not beneath me!" Ok, at least it is a fun idea to entertain. Hang in there, and keep your chin up!
Dear Stell - The only thing I can say is this:
((Hugs))
That about covers it.
(Soon you'll get to kick back and read something trashy and forget the marking.)
It's so tough on this knife-edge. I too had two unexpected pregnancy announcements shoved in my face this week. It seems it never ends...
I wish I can offer more than words. Know that I am thinking about you and hoping that you find your way back to the light soon.
Much love to you, sweetie.
We're all in this. I've had so many situations wherein I force a smile and just burst into tears the moment I leave. I try to say I can handle it but realize I can't. So I think I'd rather hide in the dark. The dark is somewhere I feel safe and I could cry until I get tired.
Hang in there.
just checking in to see how you are and hoping your keeping your head above water, I keep coming back to read your post over it's beautiful in a bittersweet kind of way. ... pulse check___^v____
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