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No date given.
I cried tonight. It was an ugly cry, as Emily Maynord calls it. I can't help it. I hate myself for it. It's probably not helping. But really, I can't help it. It's so frustrating to have one goal in your life, for all of your life, and then not be able to reach it. I tried gin and limonatas earlier, to distract my mind, but I think it may have made it worse. Now I'm awake, too late at night, pondering whether something's wrong with me. Maybe I should care less. Maybe if I wanted this less, it would happen. Maybe I'm not a good enough person. Maybe I need to pray more. Or maybe this is God's way of punishing me. Or testing me. Or testing my patience. I visited a few psychics there for awhile and one, the last one in fact, admonished me for not being patient. Literally. The psychic scolded me. It was such an uncomfortable experience that I vowed to avoid psychics for awhile. So far, it's worked. So maybe I just need to give it more time. No one tells you how difficult this process is. Oh sure, they tell you the teenage pregnancy horror stories or all about the surprises people never wanted. Those one night accidents. No one tells you about how hard it can be, even when you're young, and you actually want it to happen. How long you will have to wait and how exhausting the unsuccessful months are... and not just for you. My poor husband. It's not his body so he probably only vaguely understands. He has me under strict instructions to "take my notebook and make some tea" tonight. It's probably best this way. My pity party is tail spinning. I hope this has a happy ending, this story of mine. Even as I write this, I'm still hopeful. I still can't accept that it won't happen. The worst case scenario isn't even a possibility in my mind. So really, I'm a babbling baby because I'm frustrated. I. I. I. Maybe that's my problem. Maybe I'm being too selfish. Or maybe the relationship between my husband and I isn't as good as it's supposed to be. This is the problem. You question everything. And because no one talks about this, I have no answers. You can't ignore it. You can't pretend to not care when you do.
This is awful. And now, my tea kettle is screaming at me that it's time to go to bed. I'm sure you probably agree.
It hasn't been a good night, which is quite obvious, so I'll just wish you farewell. Hopefully tomorrow will bring sunnier days.
Wine + Wagons, originally written July 18th, 2012.
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July 18, 2012
I'm smarter than I think. I kid. I kid. Well, sort of. But remember my slutty Snooki idea? I've been toying with this lifestyle for a week now, with admittedly mixed results. I may have just taken it a teensy bit too far the other weekend. No one should have to hold back your hair for you. Ever. Ah, but I digress. Two things are for sure: 1. I care less. This is freeing in and of itself. Where did worrying ever get me? 2. My wine consumption and, subsequently, liquor store bill have both increased dramatically. And why not? Doesn't this make the most perfect sense? If all goes according to plan, I will be of the sobriety kind for 9 months.That is a very, very long time for one to abstain from fun and fervor. And not to mention, a birdie once told me that life changes as you know it, forever, after that 9 (or, really, 10) months are over. So why not enjoy it now, while we still have the freedom?
Have you joined my wagon o' fun yet? If not, you need to jump on board...pronto!
Trying.. maybe too hard? Originally written July 12th, 2012.
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July 12, 2012
I've adopted a new theory. Want to hear it? Oh, okay... great! I just knew you would. So this is how it goes:
Lets just say we throw out all of the ovulation calendars, the non-stop focus on nursery decor and the obsessive healthy eating. We'll keep that daily vitamin though. Oh yes, because after all, I do like my fingernails and hair strong and long (why does that sound so dirty?!). Yes, vitamins will stay. Now, let's focus instead on having fun. Remember those days? Way back when. Let's bring them back. The Thirsty Thursdays and the mornings where we took more than 20 minutes to get ready for our day. Let's throw clothing on the floor until we find the outfit that looks just right. Let's pretend every night is date night. And hey, let's drink in the shower, play loud music and stay up too late. Speaking of late, lets be late. And maybe even a little messy. Let's have those crazy, wild times without worrying about what time of the month it is. We'll be the spontaneous, sexy girlfriend again instead of the nagging, perfectionist wife we've unconsciously evolved into overnight. Let's hide the gardening gloves, cleaning supplies and those pesky little comments from hubby. They can be saved for a rainy day when he's not looking. And let us see what happens. Why not?! Hell, I've noticed a rather annoying trend over the course of my life. Doesn't it always seem like the Snooki-like gals are the ones always getting knocked up? Am I right or am I right? Never in a million years would I think that life lessons from a 4 foot Snook would be a good idea, but yes, it is true. That day has come. So, here my sweet friends, commences my 30 day trial. I've tried the other route of trying. It's exhausting. And honestly, a little depressing. Especially when you've tried so hard and done everything by the book all month long only to be rewarded with what? Oh yeah. That's right. Your now even-more-depressing period. So that's it. It ends here and now. I'm trying for fun and exciting instead. It's time to throw caution to the wind kids (sort of). Who knows? Maybe it'll even make life a little happier in the process.
My husband won't even know what hit him ;)
