Dear Self

Dear Self,

It is my hope that we can look back on this in a year or so and tell ourselves see? Got through that...no problem. It's all right now.

For the moment, I need to let some of this spew out before I do something stupid or unforgivable. Thing is, Self, we're not all right at the moment. I've always prided myself in being tough and being practical. Being that tree that bends and bends but doesn't break no matter how bad the storm gets. I've spent my life believing that things turn out the way they're supposed to in the end, and God, or the Universe, or Destiny or whatever balances things out in the end and we all get what we deserve. Good things come to good people, and even though bad things happen to good people, it's all made right in the end.

I don't know if I believe that anymore. I'm so close to breaking it scares me and I don't know how to make it stop. I'm so tired. Tired of things going wrong, tired of cleaning up messes, tired of HURTING. I just hurt almost all the time now.

Let's take it one thing at a time, shall we?

School is horrible. Leaving Dayton was the only decision I could make...my school there was unsafe, administration unreliable, and I couldn't stay in chaos. It got me back to Columbus and I'm glad I'm there. But the new school I went to is the worst decision I've ever made. For the first time in my career I'm not sure if I even have it in me to go back to teaching next year. The kids are just as challenging as ever, but the people running this place have tied my hands with stupid, stupid policies that make my life harder in every way possible. I've gotten physically injured breaking up fights, I'm forced to sacrifice an entire class to deal with two hoodlums who should NOT be in a public school because my administration doesn't want to risk a lawsuit if we try to expel. I've been ordered to stop teaching content and just teach test skills. Me, an English teacher, told no novels, no poetry, just test taking. I hate getting up in the mornings and going to work. Hate it. And I try to make the best of what I have, but teaching inner city takes so much out of you. It's a thankless subset of a mostly thankless job and I leave everyday feeling like my soul has been sucked out through my nose.

Things with my family are horrible. A lot of the time. Grandpa died this fall and everything that was tense and uncomfortable between my father and his siblings went to Hell in a handbasket. There's so much hatred and vitriol on both sides, and my grandmother is living out her final years watching her children take sides against each other, and I can't help her. I feel like I'm being asked to choose sides and I hate it. I want my family back. My huge, wonderful, stereotypical Italian family. I want our summer barbecues with more people than the house could hold and our holiday gatherings and the certainty that nothing could break us apart and it's all gone, and I'm starting to realize I'll never have that back. I still have that bond with my mom and my sisters, and I'm grateful for that...but my family used to be so much more.

There is still no Imp in my life. I am starting to wonder if there ever will be. Trying to
Conceive this summer just went...cruelly. I have no other word for it. Three cycles, all BFN. The first wasn't bad. Tried, took a HPT right before my period was due and nothing. Tried again, didn't take a HPT because the dates fell right on my sister's wedding weekend and I just didn't want to know because I'd rather have not had to keep a stiff upper lip while my kid sister was getting married. Had to anyway as my period arrived literally as I was getting into my bridesmaid dress.

Attempt three my period was late! Really late, and I was so hopeful but just a touch gun-shy and I was due for my yearly anyway so just went to my doctor's office for confirmation or denial. And not only was I not pregnant, the doctor decided she wanted to run some tests to see what was up with my period.

A few days later I'm meeting my sister (the married one) and mother for lunch and get the call from my doctor in the parking lot of Red Lobster that my bloodwork, after fifteen plus years of being normal, and slightly long but regular cycles with all signs of ovulation, is consistent with PCOS. And then I go in to lunch trying not to cry and--well, sister is pregnant! Surprise! And she's got ultrasound pictures!

And I hate myself for this, but my first honest reaction, sitting there with the dual sensations of having been gutpunched and kicked in the teeth, was to throw out a glare to the Universe in general and just be like, SERIOUSLY? I love my sister and I'm so happy for her and so excited for my niece or nephew, but there's this little, shameful part of me that is eaten alive by jealousy that she got pregnant as soon as she started trying, while I've been waiting for my Imp for almost six years now.

And I can't understand this. I'm a good person. I pay my taxes, I try to be nice to people. I've dedicated my life to children who need it more than anyone. And I have wanted to be a mom with every fiber of my being to the point of physically ACHING for it every day since I was twenty three. And now this.

And I can't even talk about it with the people who would normally help me with this. My sister has some issues with her pregnancy stemming from her Crohn's disease and my mom and the rest of the family are, rightly, focused on her. I can't add to that stress, especially since there's nothing they can really DO. My sister doesn't need my problems heaped on hers right now and I'm not so selfish that I'd do that.

I just don't know what TO do.

So, so far the new year has entailed the death of my beloved grandfather, the implosion of my extended family beyond all repair, the most miserable school year I've ever had, and my officially joining the ranks of women with fertility problems, rather than being someone who simply lacks a convenient source of Man-juice.

Oh and lots of random crying in my car, when things just get so overwhelming I feel like I'm drowning by inches. That's been fun.

Happy FUCKING New Year.

So, Self, I hope the version of us who reads this down the line can laugh at our melodrama and our misery, 'cause she's in a better place along the road. Because I don't know what we're gonna do.

Location:Corner of PleaseGod and MakeItStop