True story: last night I ripped my Creighton chart in two. I probably would have ripped it into a million tiny pieces if the little stickers didn't offer some resistance and if the rational part of my brain didn't kick in. I then slammed the piano bench shut (where I keep my charts) and broke down crying and yelling.
So yeah, I think I've got a problem with anger.
I can pinpoint exactly how I got to that chart-ripping point. I was sick (still am) with seasonal allergies, which really wiped me out this time – two days off work and hours lying around on the couch. I've been feeling crummy since last week. Then yesterday was the first time in the last two months that I've seen some good CM. Fertile, or as my sarcastic inner angry self says, in quotes, "fertile." Great timing, right? I'm going through about a tissue a minute and my head is pounding...not exactly a recipe for romanc. Mr. M agreed. No "baby dance" tonight.
Realizing that we were going to miss out on probably the best chance this cycle to conceive, all because the stupid trees outside finally decided to blossom and send my sinuses into overdrive...on top of already feeling crummy and depressed over being sick...it was too much to handle. So as I went to fill out my chart and was not going to put an "I" on that day's square, anger took hold. Hence the mutilated chart and the slammed piano bench (which I broke, by the way, although it could be fixable).
And when the tears came, all of the little "jabs" I had been trying to not think about came flooding back with unbelievable intensity.
The fact that my Creighton instructor is pregnant with her 4th baby in 4 years and I have to get yet another chart from her because I've filled up two already. And that I have to talk with her, of all people, about my pitiful CM and our failure to conceive, while she seems to just look at her husband and get pregnant.
The fact that my coworker (in a different department) who got married last April and had a baby this February is going to bring her baby in on Thursday for "show and tell," and that it would be awkward if I didn't go, since we work on the same hall, but I'd rather just shut my door and not have to pretend that I'm happy for her, or (my bigger fear) hear people make comments about honeymoon babies and Good Catholic Families and the like.
The fact that we're probably not going to move into the new, bigger apartment that came available, for a lot of reasons, one of them being that we really don't need more space (read: it's still only the two of us).
And on and on. Just when I think that these little pricks are taken care of, they surface again to kick me while I'm down.
It's so ugly.
It's there in my heart, and when the dam breaks, I just want to lash out at someone – anyone – and release all this pent-up pain inside.
Who am I even angry at? It's not like someone is to blame for our childlessness. Am I angry at my body? At Mr. M? At God?
Last night, I felt like being sick during my "fertile" window was like being slapped in the face by the universe. I don't know how else to put it. I don't believe God causes us harm, but then who?? At least when someone does something nasty to you, you can have an object of anger – and forgiveness. But IF just makes me feel so indiscrimantely angry – pure anger, if I can put it that way. Angry at the way my life is going, angry at my reproductive oddities, angry at our childlessness, angry that I can't control my emotions better, angry at feeling at the mercy of every baby bump and pregnancy announcement, and on and on.
What do I do with all this anger? Especially when it comes upon me all of a sudden. I'm really ashamed at how I acted last night, ripping the chart at all. I've never had much of a temper, but I've gone through IF before either! This is not the person I want to be. I wish I had a punching bag or something – working out helps, doing something else can help, but in the moment, when I'm awash with anger – rage, even – and there doesn't seem to be any outlet, I do inappropriate things like take it out on my Creighton chart....
I need to talk this over with my therapist (that's a topic for another post) to get a handle on my anger. I'm so ashamed afterwards, and I don't want to deal with IF in this way. Not that it's not something to get angry about! But clearly I don't want to be at the mercy of anger and do or say things that I'll regret later.
Not sure how to end this, just to say that any prayers would be appreciated, advice as well, and that I am supremely grateful for the patience of my husband, who always "walks me off the cliff," as I like to say, and for the mercy of our always-forgiving God, who I feel like I let down.
p.s. Thursday - I'm still feeling under the weather, but was non-sniffles enough last night to have a "good night in" with Mr. M....so we'll see if that bears any fruit, ha ha bad pun sorry...