Hello darkness, you're not my friend

I haven't written now in just short of forever.  Okay, maybe a little over a month or so isn't anywhere near forever, but this particular six weeks or so feels like forever. I've often struggled with why I write anyhow. Does it matter at all?  Then again, what does?  I haven't written.  I haven't photographed.  I'm really just getting by.

The darkness - ohh, the darkness. The darkness is the worst. The winter, the snow, and the cold - it all came early. The holidays are upon us.  All of these things make for a more dismal me.  I used to love the holidays, before IF and childlessness - but not anymore.

All of this makes life so much harder.

And then life got harder still.

See, I was called as a potential donor for someone. I dropped everything to respond. I don't have many potential matches in the registry, so I know they wouldn't have either. I always wondered if I'd be brave enough to go through with it if ever called. When I got the call, there was no doubt that I would do anything - anything - to help this person if I truly did match her.

Then the shoe drops.

Because of some repercussions of my infertility experience, I can't donate. They won't let me. I've been deferred. For my own good.  I've been removed from the registry.  I begged for them to change it, to let me - I don't care about risk to me. I would do anything to help her.

It seems I'm not handling this very well. Just when I thought I couldn't break any further, a few more pieces have shattered to smithereens.

For a while I thought maybe some good could come from me after all. And it's a plus for a donor to have not had any pregnancies, so it briefly felt like maybe there was some good from this horrendous nightmare, at least.

Instead, I'm still childless - and I also can't help this woman, who is fighting for her life.

I feel like I just can't breathe anymore.  I can't get past this. I can't stop caring what happens to this woman, who my own uselessness and failure prevents me from helping.

And so in this darkest of the seasons, the darkness inside me grows still more oppressive. I want to find rest, I believe in the peace that passes all understanding - but all I want is to be numb. Numbness is not the answer, but I feel things too deeply I think. There's something wrong with more than just my reproductive system - there's something really wrong with my heart and my brain.

Yet I walk around still and laugh and talk and do my work, but the moment I'm alone again all I can do is gasp for breath whilst the tears flow. It's all I can do to just make it through the days. I finally got the big promotion at work and you know what?  I don't care a whit. It's not what I really want. It's just a nice little consolation prize.  Dear R is so proud of me though, so very proud... but all I want to do is run away with him to some remote island and forget about life.

Dear R has also been having to listen to the self-hatred that is now just so great it sometimes bubbles up out of me. I try to keep it inside, but it can't always stay there.  He doesn't deserve that. He hates it - hates hearing insults about the woman he so adores. I know that I need to get back into a therapist because I can't keep doing this to him. The man who the only things he'd do differently would be to marry me sooner and take me to Utila sooner!! He says this already knowing what a nightmare I am, what a broken down mess. I'll never understand why he loves me so.

So yeah, I know I need to find a therapist to talk to, to try to work through this. I don't feel like it, but I can't keep doing this to R - and honestly, I just can't live like this anyhow. I'm completely wrecked. So now I'm trying to find someone who can help me see truth, who accepts our insurance, and who works near me because I'm just not going to drive across the metro for appointments - especially in the darkness and cold, and so I need to set myself up for some measure of success in that at least. Just getting through each day without any public breakdowns has taken all my energy, of late.

And so there you have it.

The price of love

Now

It's occurred to me that perhaps I should let my hair grow back out so I never have to go back to the hair salon. Seems like a good reason, right.  It would save me money, after all, since keeping a short style requires frequenting the salon every four to six weeks. (I used to go to the salon about once every 18 months.)

Anyhow, I like it short and think it suits me, but I always dread going to the salon. It's the questions they ask and the jibber jabber that I so dislike.  The worst was last time, when the lady repeatedly insisted I had two kids, a boy and a girl - and I had to repeatedly insist back that I don't and that no I never told her that.

Then I sat there like a lump trying not to cry through the whole hair cut because that's how ridiculous I am. So this afternoon, I went ahead and made myself sick just thinking about it again - even though I wasn't even going to go back to her again. After all, who knows what crazy thing someone will say to me next?  I wish these things didn't bother me so. But then I wish oh so many things.

On the bright side, I do like my hair, and the worst the lady today said was, "So... like, tell me about your hair."   To which I replied, "Well, um... I don't know - I've had it about 43 years, it grows out of my head, and um... I need it trimmed up." Okay, I didn't really say that, but I was thinking it.

Tell me about your hair....   Brother Bob!

Week 38 of Photo 52: Eyes

Anyhow, after that I kept my eyes fixed solidly on Words With Friends to lessen the possibility of difficult questions.

For some reason it's the hair and dental appointments that are the worst. The questions and comments without means of escape. Then again... why can't I just get up and walk away?  I don't know.  I wondered about that after the appointment with the woman who repeatedly insisted I have children, despite my protests - I could have just left. It might have seemed weird or rude, but I wasn't actually trapped. I often feel trapped. Maybe if it happens again, I'll have the strength to just not torture myself.

Ah well. This is the way it is. Hair appointments cause me tremendous nausea inducing anxiety. I wanted my hair to be pretty before our anniversary tomorrow though, and I'd gone way too long in between appointments because of my dread.

It's okay though. It is.

Then tonight I read a blog post about grief and infertility, "The Loneliness of Grief."  It feels so good to be got.

“Grief is like the ocean; it comes on waves ebbing and flowing. Sometimes the water is calm, and sometimes it is overwhelming.  All we can do is learn to swim.”                 (Vicki Harrison)

And this:

“Grief never ends… But it changes. It’s a passage, not a place to stay. Grief is not a sign of weakness, nor a lack of faith… It is the price of love.”

The price of love.

Tomorrow R and I turn nine years old and we will celebrate the amazing blessing of marriage love, as we look forward to - hopefully - many more years of happily ever after together. Every morning when I awake, I wonder more and more about this amazingness that has been gifted to me. I am so thankful. With that comes the growing loss of knowing how very much we wanted to have kiddies. Oh so very much.

Indeed, this tremendous grief is the price of tremendous love.

It truly is overwhelming so much of the time, as if the waves are pulling me under and I just keep struggling and struggling for air and solid ground. It felt like that again this afternoon, but no one at work knew, of course. I've gotten good at making sure they don't. As the blogger writes, "And the hardest thing about grieving, the absolute worst thing, is that it feels as though everyone wants you to forget." Fortunately, R does not make me feel that way - my cutie - but it largely does feel that way otherwise.

The loneliness of grief. The price of love.

Even so...  I'll never - ever - regret the tremendous love. Tomorrow, we will celebrate all of our tremendous love: the good, the bad, and the ugly. It's all part of the story of us.

And then!
October 14, 2005

Bold is the new back

My fear of flying is somewhat legendary, so since I had to fly the very week or so that the Photo 52 theme was "bold," it seemed appropriate to use myself as the model. I'm not really that bold, but I like to pretend sometimes.

Week 37 of Photo 52: Bold

Week 36 of Photo 52: Back

Equally appropriate in a stretchy kind of way was that the adjacent week's theme was "back."  I could have chose something more obvious for back, but the truth is nothing illustrates back to me more than that cutie there. I realized it as I was walking out to meet him, as he picked me up from the airport. You know, because I was - back.

Well, it wasn't only that he picks me up when I'm back. (Or down.) It's also because I'm always so happy when we are back together - and mostly because he's the one who truly always has my back. Not that others wouldn't, but my dearest love, my R, he's the one on this earth that I truly believe always has it. I told you it was a bit stretchy, but it makes sense to me. So this photo was me snapping away as he grabbed my bags to put them in the car - and him, as often, saying, "Woman! What are you doing?" And chuckling over the craziness of me snapping photos at such a strange moment. Poor cutie guy - he's never safe.

Ahh, yes, so the flights were okay. I've not had to use Xanax for them lately, so that's good because it means I've been a bit better at being able to manage the anxiety again.

Still, it fascinates me how various people respond to knowing of this anxiety. It's helped me to be more open about my anxiety, in general. It seems to help others sometimes, too - an unexpected perk. Seems others have anxiety issues too, but felt too embarrassed to talk about them. My sharing has helped them to share and not not feel so alone.

For many people who don't have such issues like this, they often tend to think it's something one can just get over. I was told that again last week when I was in San Diego (for work). "Well, once you fly more often, you'll get over that." I tell them, I've been to Siberia, Honduras, Hawaii - and all over the U.S. - by air, and the anxiety remains. I'm not a stranger to air travel - I'm just afraid of it. Each flight is a new encounter. To me it's less important to get over it, than it is to face it - and not let it stop me. If someday I'm over it, it'll be a happy surprise, but it's not my goal.

It's an interesting thing to me, this general notion that one should just get over things. Sure, there are things that one gets over, but there are other things - things that shake us to the core, that change us in parts of our heart that are so deep we weren't even aware they were there. I am all too aware that many people also think that I should get over this IF thing. It doesn't work like that. It's become part of me.

It's changed me, no doubt. Not all the changes are good, and I continue to work on those areas, but it's more important to me that I keep facing it - and not let it stop me - than it is for me to try to get over it, which would be an impossibility.

Do we get over losing those we love so much? No, never. Never! Those losses are part of life and they become part of us, but we don't get over them. We learn to live with them; we learn - hopefully - to use the pain and the heartache to love better and care more.

It's better, methinks, to love and be loved from where we are, than to tell, or be told, to get over it - even if it's meant out of concern. Let's not grow weary in our love. Time doesn't heal all wounds, but people still need whatever time they need to work through things - and there are wounds that forever change us. Love is still stronger than that, if we let it be. 

I am a broken woman, who is often cold, bitter, slow and lacking in grace and faith. It still happens way more often than I want to share that a mere comment about parenthood, or a photo of someone's cute kid is enough to reduce me to endless sobbing. (Back to school this last month is always brutal that way.) It's so hard to me that this - childlessnes - is the outcome for us. So hard. So hard to believe that it's true.

Yeah, this is all beyond hard and not something one gets over. Not something I will ever get over. And that's okay because this is the life I have, and life - which is always a gift -still longs to live. Whatever good may come of all of this, and I trust some will because this too shall not go unredeemed, it will not be of my own doing - and I'll be grateful for it.

In the meantime, it certainly takes a measure of boldness to keep on, and what a blessing to have someone who truly has my back. I'm grateful!

It's true that....

His grace is sufficient for me, but it's just so hard to bear. It's just so hard.

It's just so hard.

I'm not strong. I'm not amazing. I'm not anything but broken.

No matter how many school supplies I contribute.

No matter how much I am happy for others and their beauties.

No matter how good I am to my employee who is sending off their kiddie for first day of school.

It just hurts. I feel like I'm just walking this narrowest of lines.

It's just so damn hard.

I'm getting another brownie now.

His grace is still sufficient for me. It is, it really is. But it just hurts so much.

Round and round

Seems the unofficial end of summer has sneaked up upon me this year. Round and round these seasons go, where they stop, nobody knows.

Week 34 of Photo 52: Round

In the meantime, you can find me here - most likely with Miss Marple - savoring every last sweet, warm, and sun-filled moment.

They will eventually have to pry the flip flops off my cold, frost-bitten toes!

If I could, I'd make summer last all the year long. Some say I wouldn't love it so much if it were this way always, but I beg to differ.

Week 35 of Photo 52: Photographer's Prerogative 

I never tire of that which I love. Nonetheless, it''ll soon be time to suck it up, Buttercup!

As you can see, I've been playing with my phone's panoramic setting a lot this summer - I'm not always perfectly straight, but it's pretty cool to use!

Yeah, it's been a wonderful summer - and a very full one.

Full of sweetness and love.

Beauty and deliciousness

And light.

Very fashionable light, no less.

That's just the way we roll.

On the other hand, there's also that pesky critter that sneaks up on me, following me where ever I go - even in the glorious summer.

This emptiness that just won't leave me. It manifests in different ways, but has seemed to settle into a depth of sadness, which is so much more than just a feeling or a temporary condition that I'll be past tomorrow.

Throughout my blogs, I've often quoted Paul in saying that God's grace is sufficient for me, for His power is made perfect in my weakness. It's another thing that goes round and round in my head. (I'm glad that not only difficult things go round and round up in there!)  Well, the other night I was thinking about that again and wondering how many more times than Paul's three I've pleaded for the removal of this thorn in my flesh - pleaded for an end to barrenness and grief.

How many tears have been shed? How many more shall be shed?

Yet I don't really ask for its removal anymore. (Okay, maybe just once in a while.) Now I more often just pray that I would truly live in the grace that I know is sufficient for me. Live in grace. Live abundantly, thorns and all.

I'm grateful for summer, which refreshes my weary soul and makes everything oh so very much easier - and fun(ner!). I'm grateful, even though it will soon have to go.

I'm grateful for any of you who read this blog (my heart) and still accept me as I am - thorns and all - and all the juxtaposition that is me. I've come to realize that not all friends are like this.

I'm grateful for my husband, who not only accepts me and adores me to pieces, but is a soothing balm.

And I'm grateful to the Lord, for so freely blessing me with so much goodness and grace - me, thorns and doubts and weaknesses and all. I can't say I delight in these difficulties, but I'll not be ashamed anymore. 

Out of Focus

Sometimes I think I spend a good amount of time out of focus...  I was very focused for a long time and now it's a little fuzzy, I'll admit.  This blog is another example of that. Now that I'm done with my New at 42, I'm not sure what, if anything, to write anymore. There's certainly things in my head and in my heart, but do they need to be written?  I don't know.  I guess I'll just play that by ear.

It's funny, after my New at 42 challenge was completed, everyone kept asking me what I was going to do for my 43rd year. Well, I'm over a month into it and I have no big challenge to issue to myself.  Where am I going and what am I doing? I still don't know.

Week 32 of Photo 52: Urban

I really like that I did New at 42. It gave me a lot of new perspectives, which are still rumbling around inside of me. It helped to bring me outside of myself a bit more again, which I needed. Infertility is a rather private and inward experience in so very many ways, and it's been my focus for a long time. The weeping and related repercussions of it go on, as I'm constantly reminded of - yet I know that I need to continue to get back outside myself.

 The 42 challenge came to my heart quite naturally - I was not looking for something to do, it just came to me. Nothing has come to me for this year and I'm okay with that. However, I know that I want to help more - be more involved outside myself, to care for others in a more active way. I've taken some steps in that direction, though I have no concrete goals. Still, the focus is maybe a little sharper than it was. It might help that I keep staring at one of the birthday gifts I received this year from a good friend: it's a pretty little print that simply reads, "Make it Count." Indeed.

Week 33 of  Photo 52: Out of Focus

Then today I stumbled on this quote that really jives with much of what my heart has been exploring lately:

"Don't ever forget that you're a citizen of this world, and there are things you can do to lift the human spirit, things that are easy, things that are free, things that you can do every day. Civility, respect, kindness, character. You're too good for schadenfreude, you're too good for gossip and snark, you're too good for intolerance—and.... it's worth mentioning that you're too good to think people who disagree with you are your enemy." (Aaron Sorkin)

Mind you, I'm more a pilgrim in this world than a citizen, yet the truth of this simple reminder remains and sharpens my focus a bit, as all truth is God's truth. It remains even though I also know that I'm not too good for any of those nastier actions - as none of us are - because I remain confident that He who began a good work in me will carry it on to completion. Amen.

Of fur, fins, feathers, and bravery - but mostly bravery

"It is hard to be brave," said Piglet, sniffling slightly, "when you're only a Very Small Animal."

Week 29 of Photo 52: Fun, fin, or feathers - mini horsie!

There are many ways to be brave.  We often think of those really big kinds of bravery - those who lay their lives on the line for another, or for a great cause. Or those who sacrifice everything for what they believe in.

Yet there are also those who simply dare to imagine that they could have a different life - even if they feel like a big fat failure - those who march into the great unknown with.... nothing.  (Based on lines from one of my favorite movies, "You've Got Mail")  These folks are a resilient kind of brave, who get back up every time - no matter how far knocked down they've been.

Others face the realization that it's time - time to stretch a bit - time to take another step, perhaps a step in a different direction, because, well, because sometimes it's time to take another step.

There are other kinds, but these are the ones I know best. 

No matter which kind one faces, the fact remains that it is hard to be brave when you're only a Very Small Animal.

My fur, fin, or feathers runner up

I found myself saying the other day, "Life: it's not for the faint of heart." After all, as I've long said, life is as harsh as it is beautiful. So it takes a lot of bravery and resilience, methinks, to just keep on swimming sometimes.

Especially if... it's time to swim out a little further, and a little further.

Especially if... things are pretty okay as they are.

Especially if... they aren't, but the risk feels too great and isn't it better, this devil you know?

Okay, okay - you twisted my arm with all this swimming talk - now I'll post a photo of some fins too, but I didn't take this one, my bro did.

(I sure love my nephew!!)

Anyhow, I've heard it said (mostly by Janis Joplin) that "Freedom is just another word for nothing left to lose."

Week 27 of Photo 52: Freedom (or the intense, innate desire for it)

Well, I don't know much about that, but I do know a bit about bravery. Bravery is knowing you have a lot to lose - and accepting that risk in an active hope. Bravery knows the risks; bravery knows the - often intense - fear of losing it all. Bravery knows there are no guarantees. Bravery goes forward anyhow.

So my Brave and Very Small Animal, go forth - go like the wind!

Week 28 of Photo 52: Wind

After all,

“Hope” is the thing with feathers -

That perches in the soul - 

And sings the tune without the words - 

And never stops - at all -

And sweetest - in the Gale - is heard -

And sore must be the storm -

That could abash the little Bird

That kept so many warm -

I've heard it in the chillest land -

And on the strangest Sea -

Yet - never - in Extremity,

It asked a crumb - of me. 

(Emily Dickinson)

Go. It won't be goodbye. We'll still be here for you.

So go - go and enjoy the sweet fruits of your bravery.

Week 31 of Photo 52: Photographer's Choice

Know that, even if it's not always the sweet fruit you'd hoped for, as bravery certainly doesn't always yield that for which we so hope, it'll still be okay. There will - without a doubt - still be an abundance of sweetness... sometimes it's just found in the most unexpected, hidden of places.

So go, my Brave Friend, go in Grace. Knowing that, not only will you still be V, you won't go alone.

Whoever dwells in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty. I will say of the LORD, "He is my refuge and my fortress, my God, in whom I trust."  (Psalms 91: 1&2)

Just keeps rollin'

It's been a rather fun several days. A lot of living has been packed into these five days, starting on my birthday. I took off work Wednesday through Friday, and R took off on the weekend (a rare luxury for one who doesn't get paid time off!), so we were able to spend some really good birthday times together. We did end up working together at the flea market on Saturday morning, but that was actually my idea. Flea markets are fun to work together - and even I can make some nice little spending money off our household junk gently-used treasures.

From Wednesday's flowers for mom, birthday burgers, nature walk, and bocce fun (with a win!), through today - helping R's daughter move - it's been nonstop. After the move today I'm definitely sore on top of the already plum tuckered that I was from all these days of fun. Mind you, I'm not even remotely complaining, even about the move; it was great to be able to hang around his daughter and her friend.

So yeah, five purely wonderful and memorable days together doing a little of this and a little of that - together.

Together is my favorite way to do things, after all.

Especially when it comes to walking down unknown roads.

Things I've learned from chocolate candy wrappers: Love is a flower, friendship a sheltering tree.

I'm so grateful for love and friendship of all kinds. My five days off were plum full of them!

And also for all the abundant, but sometimes hidden, blessings that abound.

Week 31 of Photo 52: Photographer's Choice

You just gotta keep your eyes out for them, and enjoy the sweetness when you take hold of them.

And sometimes you find them, but you still have to chase them around a while. With these, rejoice even to take hold of them - no matter how fleeting.

Yeah - and tiki drinks aren't bad either...

Especially when surrounded by happy wishes!

My Thursday night work friends get together was full of laughter and fun - and even a few family members as a bonus!

Friday night held some more family fun.

It's good to have R's oldest in town, though only briefly. Proud pops!

Time for some more laughs, along with cruising and dining on the Mighty Mississippi!

I'm not sure that life is but a dream, but we surely do love to go gently down the stream, err, the Mighty Mississippi.

(This is the only kind of cat's eye I care to stare into!)

Yep, definitely a proud pops!

He has much to be proud of!  (I loved the glowing light on her face and just had to take this shot.)

Week 30 of Photo 52: Dramatic Light

And this one, because the light was even more dramatic.

What Year 43 will bring is as much a mystery as Ol' Man River himself! 

Hopefully it will also be as lovely.

Even if the loveliness I see out this window comes with darkness and distortions, occasionally raging and flooded waters, insects - and most assuredly mixed in with images from behind me.

Loveliness too rages, right along with the rest.

Ol' Man River, that Ol' Man River

He must know somepin', but he don't say nothin'

He just keeps rollin', he keeps on rollin' along