Brain dump. Hence language.

Too busy to process anything. These are today’s issues:

  1. I thought I had to write a 250-word supporting statement for my Dream Job Not-So-Dreamy Application That Never Ends. It was due in today (Friday). I decided to do it this morning, and then go to the library straight after lunch. So this morning, I duly looked at the supporting statement fulfillment details, and saw (ARGH!) that it was 750 words. No, no, it’s quite alright, I did it and sent it off, but it bit a HUUUUUGE chunk out of my scheduled library time, and did something fairly drastic to my blood pressure.
  2. Ohhhhh Christ the essays are killing me.
  3. A friend of mine announced her second pregnancy today. It’s early days, and it will be a Christmas baby, so clearly conceived just when my first clomid cycle was, err, not conceiving. She only recently decided she was going to try for a second child soon, and this is slightly sooner than she meant, because, apparantly, of wine and hormones. Also, her first childbirth nearly killed her and then she got PND. I am delighted and pleased for her and amused re: the wine and hormones and I think it’s very cute. But I also worry about her. And, dammit, my own fading little failed-cycle ghost would have been a Christmas baby too. I am feeling pretty COMPLICATED about this.
  4. I have eczema, my skin is so dry it is cracking and peeling (mmmm, we’re all about the winsome chez May), I look a good ten years older than I am my face is so frazzled, yet I still have Neck Acne. Fucking hormones. Fuck ’em. Fuck it. Fuck.
  5. Did I mention the essays? I think I am going to drop a juggling ball on this one, and have the whole lot cascade down on my head. Several people have, while ‘wowing’ me for taking on so much at once, mentioned that at least the degree and the new job will take my mind of the whole infertility crapateria. Not so much. Think about it. If a woman is carrying a large and heavy armful of logs, does she really feel her mind has been nicely taken off them if some sod balances a bucket of water on top of her head at the same time?
  6. And I have done all this, deliberately, to myself.

Just when I feel completely frantic and needy for some cookies and head-patting, I am far too busy to go about talking to bloggy friends and garnering said cookies and head-pats the care-and-share mutual commenty way. Arse. Feck.


3 responses to “Brain dump. Hence language.

  • MsPrufrock

    Oh dear. I know how this all is. I was in the middle of an MA in Art History when infertility, hormones, and general depression got on top of me and I had to get out lest my head explode. That said, I totally hear you on number five. Anyone who says these other things would keep your mind off infertility have clearly never dealt with it themselves. There is no shaking that monkey off your back.

    But here I am, head-patting and offering you a delicious double chocolate cookie. Eat it, have a cup of tea, and then we’ll swear a lot. If that doesn’t help you feel better just temporarily, I can’t help you.

  • Jackie

    I suppose head-patting and cookies are much more effective than gin when essays need to be written.
    Ms Prufrock is absolutely right–there is not anything or any mighty combination of things that can make one forget when you are slogging through the trenches of IF. It is always there, in the front of the mind, clouding everything else.
    I’m thinking of you, May.

  • deanna

    You still deserve head-patting, and so it will be given. You’re accomplishing some wonderful things! (and, honestly, making me feel like a big slacker!) Keep plowing ahead, May!

    I had a cycle ghost that I harbored for several years before I finally loosened its grip on my heart. It was a long time, though, of seeing my friend’s little boy, and thinking of my failed cycle and what could have been. Too bad there are exocisms for such things to speed it along.

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