crazy
Only a few times in my life have I ever really wondered if I was going crazy.
1. When I broke up with my first boyfriend when I was seventeen
2. When my brother was diagnosed with schizophrenia when I was twenty-one
3. When I was tortured by fifteen-year-old boys in my first year of teaching when I was twenty-five
4. When I found out that there was no sperm when I was twenty-eight (ie. Right About Now)
That’s four. Only four.
And I know: I’m not much fun when I’m crazy. I am obsessive. I am nervy. I am teary. I can’t concentrate. I get pimples, and my eyes go red. I leave kettles to boil dry and melt to the stove-top. I wander around, muttering like a homeless person in my black velvet jacket and floppy hat, wearing multi-coloured fingerless mittens and fake flowers. I carry my cat in a quilted bag and talk to strangers on public transport about the Virgin Mary.
Sad thing is that it’s kinda true, except for the last bit.
The question right now is how accountable I am for this current wave of craziness.
Considering.
Because I’m not getting a real good response right now, guys. I’m not really anybody’s favourite person. I feel like I’m hanging out with the other fruit in the proverbial too hard basket.
I’m difficult right now. I’m petulant. I'm moody.
And yes, I’m not always finding it easy to think about other people.
And they say: Princess Meg thinks there’s no world outside of herself. Princess Meg always gets what she wants.
And I think: Yeah right she does.
Yeah.
Fucking.
Right.
Not surprisingly, the last couple of days haven’t been much fun for me. I’ve just come out of another Weekend of Tears. Which I can’t really be bothered getting into, suffice to say that I’m apparently pissing people off with my self-absorption, a.k.a. the fact that I am stressed out and full of good old fashioned grief right now.
And that it's not always expressing itself in the kind of benign tears that gratify people because it means they can be my shoulder to cry on.
So I’m not sure what I can do about it.
Considering.
Except hopehopehope that tomorrow, at our follow-up appointment with Doctor Willy, maybe we’ll get some answers.
And that knowing why, maybe I’ll be able to start moving on.
Un-crazy.
8 Comments:
Hoping that the follow-up gives you some decent answers. Hang in there.
Hi Meg. I've added you to my blog list. I echo Thalia's comment. Hang in there.
I've added you to my blogroll also. Your entry reminds me of my two favorite poems by Nikki Giovanni, Cotton Candy on a Rainy Day and Choices
I know the crazy feeling too. I know it now when I scream at my 14 year old stepdaughter knowing even as I scream that no matter how good I feel when I am screaming that I will regret it moments later. Everyone is allowed to be crazy now and then. We just have step back and ask ourselves, "Is this the way we WANT to act" and then work on acting how we really want to act, not act in those spontaneous outbursts.
Most people have an extreme lack of empathy towards infertility. They find us touchy or too difficult to deal with. They rarely stop and think about how hard it is to live you life day to day with a burning descire for something that you can't quite reach. I am sorry you haven't gotten the support you need.
Meg, you can talk to me if you need to.
I don't know much about the pain of infertility but I sure as hell know depression, uncontrollable grief and mental illness. And I'll try my best not to be accidentally offensive...
It's hard when you feel out of control to see any light at the end of what can be an increasingly twisted tunnel. Just let it out and know that you are allowed to be crazy. Other people might no get it, but it is an acceptable response to factors beyond your control.
Embrace the rage. Mutter to yourself under your breath; rock back and forth in fron of the TV; cultivate cumpulsive habits as long as they're not harmful to yourself; stop talking if you don't feel like you've got anything to say... Just let it manifest and hopefully you can work it out of your system; not the grief itself, but the uncontrollable aspects of it.
It's OK to be insane for a little while - but only a little while. If it goes on too long, seek help.
Good luck at the doctor tomorrow.
All my love...
You're NOT alone.
From one crazy princess meg to another- I hope, someday, I'll be as strong as you are. I can't even begin to imagine how you do it...
...thankyouthankyouthankyou wonderful women for your support...
Meg, you are not self-absorbed. Parenthood is the least self-absorbed act in life. You are earnestly longing it & it is painful to see you in such turmiol. I admire your determinatiuon and strength.
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