I have been so tired and unmotivated lately. Just standing up can be a (dizzy) strain. The kind of deep and broad thought necessary to finish writing a novel is often way beyond me. But I get bored watching videos, too, and it’s too hot to go outside most of the day, and most activities outside the house seem kind of exhausting. I feel constantly hungover, with a queasy stomach and acid in the back of my throat. (At least I don’t have headaches.) I find myself just wishing the time away, wishing it will pass.
(I’ve also started having an aversion to eggs. Today I wanted Mexican food for lunch. Nothing else would have done. Then I wanted microwave pad thai for dinner. Popped out of its plastic container and microwaved in a glass bowl, of course. Actually what I really wanted was cereal with bananas, but we were out of almond milk. Mostly I just want Mexican food all day every day.)
Sleeping is tough, and my dreams are off the rails. Everything from utterly humdrum scenarios, like having four frozen pizzas in the freezer instead of one (and then waking up wondering whether we actually have four or one) to really stressful stuff like being asked to solve an incredibly complicated equation without any context, and knowing everything will be ruined if I can’t.
Yesterday my husband’s boss hosted a pool party at his place, and I knew it’d be almost six hours of socializing, which is exhausting for me even on my best days. And of course the first question a lot of people asked was, “So, do you have Ahmed have kids?”
I answered with my standard: “We’re working on it.”
Miraculously, my energy stayed pretty good until the end. Almost like I was running on adrenaline. Then today I crashed. When I found it too exhausting to watch a Youtube vide, I took a nap for three hours. Then I got up and made the bed and needed another 15 minute nap to recover from that. I napped on top of the covers so I wouldn’t have to make it again and end up in bed forever.
If I knew this was all for something, I’d happily take it for nine months and then some. The not even knowing is messing with me a bit. I’m not allowing myself to feel anything, and I have no idea what kind of feelings are ahead of me. The other two CC women I’m closest to online, who transferred just before me, both had good ultrasound results after many years of bad results, and I’m so happy for them. I hope I don’t end up being the odd woman out.
I just remember, so clearly, what it feels like to build hopes up, even a little, and meditate and visualize your child(ren), and try so hard to believe, only to have everything yanked out from under you at the last minute. Any faith, so far in this four-year trip from hell, has only always been punished.
Come on, August 7. I really hate wishing time away. All time is so precious. But this state of exhaustion and tension is something I’ll be glad to put behind me. At least some new form of tension will be interesting instead of the same old one for the past four years.
And at least kids grow and change as four years pass. This pins-and-needles, is-it-or-isn’t-it, will-we-or-won’t-we feeling is desperately monotonous.