Pity Party

I need to do something. I feel like a shriveled up miserable little miser filled with bitterness and regret, wincing and cowering, just waiting for the next punch to land. I was thinking as I was falling asleep last night that I’m supposed to submit to God’s will even if that means I get nothing. My last thought was, “if all I’m meant to have is God in my life and all this misery, than just take me now, I don’t want to continue on like this I would rather just be with God in heaven.” I’m tired and I don’t mean just physically. I’m empty and hallow, I’ve got nothing left. I wish this were a coat I could just throw off and feel lighter, to break free from the pain and self-pity. But, I’m sinking deeper and finding it’s hard to breathe. I spend my days constantly on the verge of tears just hoping to make it through until I’m in my own house where I can wail and howl all the pain out to the walls that confine me in my prison. I don’t want to be this way, I don’t want to live this way. Until recently, I thought that everything was getting better, I thought that the future was finally looking bright and positive. But, I’m not allowed to be freed of the nastiness of life so easily. I really thought I had gotten through it, I thought I was soon to be totally free from the iron fist of misfortune. I thought I was moving ahead, I have a boyfriend and was approved to adopt with all the paperwork completed, I was on the precipice of getting all that I wanted. But, I was just looking into a reflecting pool and the image was quickly distorted and destroyed by life’s problems pouring down upon me. Woe is me. Life has me in a chokehold and I am slowly succumbing. After battling evil infertility, I fought hard through the double whammy of losing my husband and the foster baby we were supposed to adopt. I refused to let that get me down. I battled to stay afloat financially, cutting what I could and scrapping by, rubbing those pennies together. I admitted my wrong-doings as a foster parent to the county and faced the consequences head-on, determined to get back up after I was knocked down. I endured further placements coming and painfully going, forced myself to date despite finding it tedious and distasteful. I teetered under the loss of my car (after I foolishly lent it to Flaco and the bastard destroyed it), replacing my refrigerator (with a much small, inferior model) threatening to push me back into financial ruin. I shouldered the joint credit card debt with barely a fight because Flaco did very little to help pay his portion. I thought I was through it, I really did. I thought the tide had turned and I was on the rise. It seemed confirmed when I got the call for the Christmas miracle baby. It seemed like the stamp of approval, that my life was indeed on the up-swing. But, it was a farce. It was a cruel twist of fate. People tell me they believe that everything happens for a reason, but I do not believe that. There is no reason why that had to happen. None. And to say there was is an endorsement of the need for me to feel more pain and more loss. I vehemently disagree with the assumption that there was a good reason for that scenario to happen as it did – because there is no good reason. None. I tripped, but I was regaining my footing, I was thinking that it was just one more turn on this crazy path and that surely, my child was just around the bend, just beyond the next hill. Until I lost my car. Now, I am considering some drastic changes – like renting out my house and moving in with my parents until I can get all my debts paid off (so, like 3 years or so by my calculations). This would put adoption up in the air, since I don’t think my parents would be interested in having me parent in their home (my mom doesn’t even want to get fingerprinted for the FBI clearance to allow them to baby-sit for me before the child(ren) are adopted). But, I have sunk to this all-time low and I’m not seeing any other options at my disposal. I could walk away from my house, send the keys to the mortgage company and let them deal with it, but I just can’t bring myself to do that. I guess that would be the lowest of lows. We are measured not by how many times we get knocked down, but by how many times we get back up. This might just be my k.o., the end, one-two-three and down for the count. Buying a plane ticket to some exotic island to run away from my troubles is sounding better and better…….  

 

The newly accidental pregnancy co-worker told me she found out because she was going for an MRI and they asked her if she could be pregnant – just like they ask every single woman on the face of the planet, no matter how ironic it could be. Her lmp was 1/2/14. That’s hardly late in my book. My lmp was 12/31/13 and I’m sure not worried. But, I supposed that’s because I am lacking one very essential piece it would take to get pregnant – sperm. Well, that and a reproductive system that actually reproduces. Mine is just a waste of space. Which is kind of how I’m feeling right now, like I’m a huge waste of space. She proceeded to inform me she too has PCOS (we’ve had this discussion before) and if “this” can happen for her, it can happen for me. I’m going to punch you in  your throat – that is what I thought to myself as she was yammering on. I know I’ve posted this before, about how I abhor people insisting I will still get pregnant, despite my struggle to come to terms with the fact that I will not. Did someone die and make you god, that you can proclaim with such certainty that “it” will happen for me too? After she told me she asked how I would want to be told because she has other friends who have been trying and she’s not sure how to tell them. Thanks for making me your guinea pig, btw. I told her I would rather be told in private by her than find it out through the grapevine and not have time to deal with it and get my game face back on. There are only two other women in the building who have not had children, other than me. One had a miscarriage last year and I have not heard if they are trying again or not. The other one is single (as far as I know) and I don’t know if she even wants kids (I don’t know her all that well). All other women have had at least one child, some more than one. I so hope I don’t get the “your next” or “when will you have a baby?” now that this co-worker is expecting. I won’t be able to handle it. Truly I won’t. I’m on the edge so as it is, I don’t need those type of its-none-of-your-damn-business questions. I’m just really not liking life right now. I’m not liking me, I’m not liking anything that I do or don’t do. I’m just – I don’t know. I don’t even know what I am. I’m tired of getting shit on by life. I’m tired of always being the loser, a day late and a dollar short. I’m tired of never being able to get ahead. I’m tired of trying to do the right thing only to get punished for it while people doing the wrong thing seem to skate by unscathed. I’m tired of feeling like there can’t be anything more I can lose only to find out I’m wrong. I think I’ll go play in traffic now…….