Some days… some weeks are better than others. Then something just happens and there’s this funk you just cant shake.
My friend had a miscarriage last night.
And it set off all these thoughts.
When will I have my own family? Will I be happy? Will I still be expecting something more? Someone more? Somewhere else?
Can I even have children with my body eating my thyroid — chances are slim. With thyroid disease it’s hard to get pregnant or maintain a pregnancy. But is that my worth? My child bearing abilities? And would I even want to inflict this genetic calamity onto another person?
What is the point of it all?
When I have nights/days/months like this, I chew my nails down with worry. Down to where they bleed and hurt.
No rhyme or reason. I just do.
I just remembered how much I hate the holidays.
I may stay merrily to myself.
And splurge on a decent bottle of scotch. For me. My Christmas present to myself.
And then by about 4 pm on Christmas, regret it all and realize that I’m not completely okay with being alone during the holidays. And by that time, it’s too late.
Is it better to have bad company than no company at all?
But then, my other friend finally had her son(she went past her due date) and for those few moments, when bleary eyed looking at my phone this morning while still in bed, maybe — just maybe — it will work out.
And probably not how I expected at all.