I make no sense just because, OK? OK.

So, yes, thoughtful pause has ensued. Sorry about that. Well, I’m sorry about that if you were in any way wanting to read more of my ramblings and fossickings (you strange masochistic person, let me clasp you to my grateful bosom). If you didn’t care, well, then we’re all staring at each other in a confused fashion, because you are, aren’t you, reading this? And yet you don’t care? How odd you are. Hello!

Anyway. I felt rather as if I had painted myself into a corner with the whole ‘Let’s Talk About FEEEEEEELINGS!’ thing, and so I had to do what everyone who paints themselves into a corner has to do – that is, sit on the radiator kicking my heels until the paint dries. Meanwhile H’s post has brought all sorts of fascinating people out of the woodwork to comment. It’s gratifying and astonishing. (Apologies if you never thought of yourself as the sort of person who lurks in woodwork. Do you prefer shadows? Corners? Having been sitting quietly over here all this time?)

So, on to the meanwhiles. Meanwhile!:

Item – I have H’s cold! At least, I think it’s H’s. It could be anyone’s. I live in a big city and people cough and sneeze so very inconsiderately (did I ever tell you about the chap at work who was about to hand me a book, felt a sneeze coming, lifted the book to his face and sneezed right on it, wetly, and then put it in my poor little cringing bare hand? I wish now I’d had the strength and swiftness of mind to put my hands behind my back and GLARE at him). I was clearly feeling out of sorts on Friday, and woke up yesterday morning with my throat on fire. On. Emmineffin’. FIRE. And a fever. And now I have ear-ache. Which is an embuggerance.

Item – It’s six dpo and I don’t feel comfortable stuffing myself to the gunwales with anything more punchy than paracetamol and tea. Which sucks. I rather wish I had the insouciant gumption to just shout ‘the hell with it!’ and snarf 400mg of ibuprofen and a Beecham’s flu powder and a large ginger-wine toddy and possibly a thumbnail of cocaine and all (is cocaine any good for colds?).

Item – To my horror, my astonishment, my despair, and my utter horror, I had a screaming weeping melt-down on Friday. Because it was the 11th, I think. Because while I am no longer in active mourning for that particular pregnancy, or, I think, any of the others, as such, I still feel bitterly cheated out of four years of pregnancy and motherhood. I still feel I should have a three-and-a-bit-year-old, and these past four years have been an intermittent torment-by-denial. And because it’s Mother’s Day (not in Britain, mind you (we have ours in March, before Easter), but for most of the rest of the planet and therefore for The Internets) and because I will be 37 in a couple of weeks and I have not a single living child about me. And because I have been going through The Period Designed By Abyzou, for years now, every month, and the only reason for me to go through this physical torment is in the hope of pregnancy. Which isn’t happening. Fucking fuck fuck fuckitty fuck.

Item – Speaking of which (The Period, not the fucking) H and I cancelled and rebooked our traditional end-of-May holiday this year because we counted on our fingers and saw the dates we’d already booked might be invaded by Said Period, and therefore Would Not Be A Holiday Experience. And then of course panicked that Satsuma would uncooperate and delay The Period by a week and Fuck Up All The Things. She didn’t, bless her, she ovulated when I usually expect to ovulate, and I was quite surprised, because I have trust issues when it comes to Satsuma and I will have them forever. Sorry, Sats.

Item – You know how you have visions of your life, and life goals? H did, bless him. I had life goals too, when I was in my late teens and early twenties, you see. A) I was going to be a professor and writer, B) I was going to have at least one kid, preferably two, to whom I’d be the coolest, adorablest, most thoughtful and loving mother in the whole Goddamn world, and C) I wasn’t going to have the sort of fucked up, emotionally dishonest, unsupportive, unloving, cats-in-a-sack, serially unfaithful marriage that is common in my family, and I’d rather be single than deal with an atom of crap at any point at all in any of my relationships. A has gone down the crapper, B is going down the crapper, I am left with C. I need to re-write C – indeed, to a large extent, I have rewritten C. I’ve kept the bit about not having an emotionally dishonest, unsupportive, serially unfaithful marriage, indeed, I’ve put that bit in 16-point bold. But I’ve had to radically redifine ‘crap’ and exactly how much an atom of it is, though, you know, to leave room for people being tired, or sad, or depressed, or angry, or grieving, or having a bad day, or a blind-spot about other people’s bad days. When I am in a state, I regress, and my ‘atom’ shrinks and becomes oh, so much less forgiving, this is true. It is also true that the pain of the sad slow demise of A and B makes me even more unreasonable than necessary about C. I fear I have lost everything and become completely utterly blind to all the other things I am any good for, or have achieved. On Friday, for example, I was loudly and weepily announcing that I have achieved nothing, nothing at all in my entire life, while H looked at me with compassion, and also with startled incredulity. I had actually completely forgotten that I had three degrees (two post-graduate), a good marriage, a job, a talent for cooking, knitting, and writing poetry, and quite a few good friends. It’s madness. I am quite mad.

Item – Anyway, H has his first appointment with the counselling service next week. Which makes me feel like an elephant has scrambled down from my shoulders. There’s still a clan of them camping out on my chest and all around my living-room, yes, but the one on my shoulders about H’s state of mind was giving me a crick in the neck. Hurrah!

Item – Yes, I know. Get my own counsellor. Stat.

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12 responses to “I make no sense just because, OK? OK.

  • Katie

    Or just tell us? We do like listening, honest!

  • a

    Who doesn’t have those sorts of breakdowns? I do…

    Hope you’re feeling better (physically and mentally) soon.

    • May

      I’m glad it’s not just me. Honestly, there’s always a point, when I’m still wailing like a toddler, when a little voice deep inside me says ‘May, you freak, no one else in the whole world who’s got to their 30s behaves like this, I’m sure of it’, and then I feel horribly embarrassed. Not that I WANT other people to have melt-downs, mind you, not at all. I want everyone else to sit on a cushion of rainbows and have unicorns bring them buckets of Ben&Jerrys while elves do neck-massages when their days are going a tad pants. I just feel selfishly better that I can say to that voice ‘nonsense. Shit happens and when it does, rational people have to wail. So shush’.

  • bumbling

    I wish I could say something useful. But instead I am just going to say that you are doing a freakin’ elegant job of expressing a shed load of emotions and issues and “things” that most of us put in boxes and pretend aren’t there. And *they* do say that identifying the problem is the first step to solving it, no?

    If positive thoughts can help, then add mine to the clamour coming from your comments sections, and realise that not only have you achieved all the things that you mention above, but that in just going through what you are going through, and the mature and thoughtful (although I am sure it is not always so) way in which you are doing it, is an achievement in itself.

    And you have reached out to so many people, including people that I’m sure you’ve never heard of and who never comment (or almost never, like me), who realise that they are not alone, and that such erudite and, well, lovely people (such as you and H, if I was too subtle there) struggle as the rest of us do. But they also face up to the difficulties in their lives. And deal with them.

    I’m glad one elephant has climbed down. I hope a gentle stampede happens soon. Life throws some curve balls, as I know all too well myself. Much love x

  • manapan

    Don’t forget in your list of accomplishments that you have creepy stalkers Internet admirers! You’re thoughtful, witty, and remarkably emotionally stable for all you’ve been through. I wish I could be more like you.

  • korechronicles

    Item 1: This internet admirer believes humour and poetry and yes, even humble prose, are excellent creative tools for the sorting out of problems.

    Item 2: Item 1 will probably be explained by long-winded exposition on H’s post. Because Long-Winded is my Navaho name.

    Item 3: Recently concluded trip to Canyonlands has given me delusions of grandeur.

    Item 4: Beautifully hand knitted socks, that keep my toes warm inside my winter boots, and make me smile and think of you on the other side of the world? So NOT nothing. Don’t get me started with a list of your multifarious achievements: see Item 2.

    • May

      The socks are still going? Hurrah! (sorta haunted by the pair that got lost in the mail, also by the pair I made for my step-mama which wore through in six weeks (NEVER using that yarn again EVER EVER BASTARDS)).

      I really need to work on the poetry more. It’s languishing, and making neglected ‘meep’ noises, like a kitten at the bottom of a well.

      Long-winded is my Navajo name too! Perhaps we’re of a clan! Yes!

  • Anonymous

    Hello there,

    How encouraging are your words to a shy little stalker!

    On the subject of wailing… I say never mind.

    I wail too; I feel overwhelmed before but *so* much calmer afterwards.

    Best wishes,

    K

  • minichessemouse

    May you are simply wonderful. you have been through so much and come out the other side with your sanity intact. You gave me advice when i needed it most and you *understood* when nobody else did. Have a little hug (if it still survives) of the hug i made you.

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