I’m angry. Angrier than I realize, or know what to do with.
I think I am fine, I feel ok, I’m not that sad, and I’m feeling oddly gung-ho about this upcoming cycle. I’m getting work done, Pea and I are in a great spot, I’m looking forward to things we have on in the next month or so.
Then, when walking places to meet people who may or may not have any inclination that I’m in this infertility space, I imagine conversations where they ask me innocuous, well-meaning questions and I respond with some blunt rejoinder about the fact that I am having a miscarriage. I want to throw the word at someone. I want it to hurt them, and make them feel awkward and bad. It is a violent inclination.
I do not want to do this. I have not done this, nor, I hope, will I. But on some level, I cannot deny it, I am angry. I am angry that this is happening. I am angry that it is something that really isn’t the right thing to talk about, making me feel alone in this space (despite excellent support networks who do know). I am angry that I am angry, as I do not feel it is particularly healthy or productive.
I am working on it.
In other news, you get this blog post because I just spent 30 min trying to cut a letter of intent down to the right number of characters and it’s still 166 over (limit is 5000). I ran out of ways to concise-i-fy my writing so took a brain break for perspective.