she's so controlling

Have you ever heard someone describe someone else like that?

They're just too controlling...

But don't you think that description is a little hypocritical? I mean, no one wants another person controlling them, but also everyone wants control. Whether it's control over what you eat or what you wear, how many coffees you consume in 24 hours or if you're drinking enough water, and bigger things like where you live or with whom you decide to live. Sometimes we even like it when others around us acknowledge our "good" decisions and shift some of their decisions to align with ours. We all want control--we just don't want to admit that we're the ones who don't actually have it.

Hey. What's up? It's me again. Emo Emily is back at it ;) I realized (with the help of my therapist, we'll talk more about that coming right up) that for me, writing and sharing are both very healing. In fact, the three times recently I've finally hit publish on posts here were three of my most peaceful moments in the past two years. The entire process of getting to the point of hitting publish? Not so peaceful. Pretty desperate, in fact. Because of that I'm working on something where I don't wait until I hit my lowest point of desperation to write, but instead I write all the time. Maybe I share once I feel myself slipping, but also no pressure to share anything. Boom.

So therapy. Ooooo such a spooky and sometimes triggering word, right? Except not right. That's such an uninformed way to view therapy and the art of working on and caring for your own mental health. I've spent the past handful of years so proud of my friends who are putting in the work through therapy, yet never actually going myself. Recently I got to a point where I couldn't get out of bed. Sometimes I could get out of bed, but I couldn't get out of my car and go into work. I couldn't do it. I couldn't imagine being able to smile and pretend I was okay anymore. I couldn't handle the thought of accepting that this is where my life is right now. I couldn't do it (yes, I am taking care of my anxiety and depression. No, I am not telling you this as a cry for help). 

**This is the part where I post a picture to break up all the words. It's also the part where you and I both insert just a simple and understood nod to Rick. I can't and won't try to explain it more than that, but just know with whom you choose to spend your life and get through the shit together is really, really, really important.

So I made an appointment and went to therapy. And went again. And again and so on and so forth, and you know what? It's been this amazing and absolutely terrible thing. Yeah, I said terrible. I've been in my head more than ever. I've been ping-ponging between my not-so-healthy thoughts and my new tools of getting outside of those not-so-healthy thoughts. I've been happy. I've been sad. I've been relieved. I've been panicked. I've been peaceful. I've been exhausted. I've been a lot of things.

The most overwhelming of which: I've been angry. Flames coming out my ears, wrinkles searing in between my eyes, and a scream waiting to come out audibly kind of angry. It's taken me several weeks of writing, several weeks of angry weaving, and several weeks of letting that anger sit there and stew (and several very dramatic cry fests...) to realize just at whom I am angry.

I'm angry at myself. Well, the me from two years ago. I'm so pissed at that Emily who, even though knew about fertility issues and had watched some friends go through infertility treatments, just assumed she'd have a baby quickly. I'm so mad at that Emily who could so easily and joyfully picture a baby Weiss. Who they would be. How they would snuggle with Lupe. How they would feel in my arms. I'm so angry at that Emily who often sat and thought about herself and Freddie as parents. I'm so mad at Emily for the blind hope she had. That Emily spent a lot of time planning or not planning certain events/trips/activities because she knew she'd be pregnant by X, Y, or Z. Now I spend all of my time telling myself I won't be pregnant by any date, near or far. Now whenever I go in for more testing and it comes back fine/normal/great/above average like all of our tests have I want to punch the wall. I want to turn into the Hulk and have my anger visibly take up space. I want answers. I want control.

Guess what? Somewhere in between that past Emily at whom I am so mad and this present Emily who is so angry there's space for me to actually live. There's space for me to be happy and sad. There's space for me to feel joy and to feel grief. There's space for me to be grateful that we're both healthy and to be angry that we have no answers as to why we don't have baby Weiss. There's space for it all to be. I can be okay and not okay. And so can you. We can all just be--whatever emotion or whatever step is happening in life. We can be there. We can be okay and not okay. This whole paragraph feels like a written-out deep breath.

I'm so controlling, am I right? Insert a smirking emoji here. It's not a proper emotional blog post if it doesn't come full circle! As I'm starting to realize and s l o w l y starting to accept, I have very little control. I can't control what is happening. I can't control my body. I can't control anyone else or their lives.

But I can control how I treat others. I can control if I use my desperation for pity parties or eff-yeah-we-can do-this-thing-called-life parties. I can control the legacy I am creating on this Earth because as much as I feel like my life has such little meaning right now, deep down I know it has such a BIG purpose and meaning. Just like your life does, too. And really, these things are the greatest to be able to control.

**I'm posting this, as always, when I'm feeling only halfway down that scale of desperation. I have not been okay recently. I've been at such a low point, and I know there are going to be a lot of days coming up through which I will continue not to be okay. I have reached out for help. I have discussed medications. If you are feeling yourself on that downward slope of the desperation scale, please please please don't be afraid to reach out for help. One way I heal is by screaming about my pain on the rooftops of social media, but you don't have to. You have to do what is right for you. Life is too short not to take care of yourself. 

on empathy

It's National Infertility Awareness week this week, did you know that? Some of you probably did. In the past I never knew when this week was, much less that there even was an infertility awareness week. This year this week of awareness feels like it's written in Sharpie, forever marked on my inner calendar.

Why is that? Why does a week of awareness, a week of educating others about this so-called disease, a week of acknowledging these trials feel like something harsh? Bringing awareness to certain issues is a great thing! As humans we should spend more time 1) creating awareness and 2) being open-minded and accepting of information we learn from others.

However, I still have this lingering dread about acknowledging this week. By acknowledging that I know this NIAW week exists (get AT me, acronyms!), I'm acknowledging that infertility is officially part of our lives. There. I said it. Freddie and I are dealing with unexplained infertility--that is what is written in Sharpie, forever marked on my life. Until recently, in my brain I've been able to separate our not conceiving by telling myself things like, Oh! It's just taking us awhile longer than most people. Or Life has a lot of stressors right now. Next month will be the month! But then the months keep passing by, and we keep seeing the same negative results. I don't think I started accepting that there might be more going on until we started working with a Reproductive Endocrinologist this past January, and it wasn't until our first unsuccessful IUI that the potential reality of this really started to sink in.

So I cried. A lot. A lot *more* I should say. I've already written a post on this here blog about how I've been crying a lot lately, but I started crying a lot more. I started trying to make sense of it all (rookie mistake! We as humans can't make sense or control basically anything). Of why couples around us can conceive fairly easily, yet Freddie and I can't (another rookie mistake! don't compare, Emily!). Of why couples who had been struggling along with us were starting to conceive and we still were not. Of what else we could do to make it happen. Of why our tests can keep coming back normal and healthy, but we keep seeing nothing. Of how yet another cycle could be unsuccessful through medication and insemination of millions of sperm (Yah, I just said sperm. You're welcome).

Of why my body was failing me.
Of why my body wasn't doing one of the most natural things it can do.
Of why our love wasn't good enough to make a child.

And you know what's crazy? Freddie and I are almost two years and a few "invasive" treatments into this, but two years is only a blip in time compared to a lot of couples dealing with infertility.

So...we're all on the same page, right? That all those past few sentences ^up^ there are ridiculous. On my good days I can very easily and logically say I know all of that up here is malarkey and this just happens, but on my bad days I spiral deep into this mental circus of negativity, sadness, and anxiety. To the max. Add on more xxx's (and I don't mean the baby making kind of x's. Wink).

Enter now. I've wanted to come back to this space and write something for a while. The two recent posts on which I've clicked "publish" have been therapeutic in a way, but when I pulled up this tab I just sat here watching the cursor blink blink blink. How do I start writing about our journey without making it sound like a woe-is-me party? (uhh we're about eight paragraphs too late on that...)

Because here's the thing--the biggest gift I feel like this journey is giving me is empathy. I don't share snippets of our story because I'm throwing a pity party (read that about three times more). I share snippets of our story because it is the BEST reminder that 1) I'm not alone, 2) You're not alone, and 3) Life is hard for everyone. On days when I am so far lost at sea, drowning in my own built-up sadness, I look around and realize there are a lot of other heads bobbing up and down around me in the water.

Let's say on a normal day in one of my Pilates classes there's an average of twelve clients. One is probably dealing with an aging, sick parent. One might have a special needs child at home. One might have a terrible boss who is constantly crossing lines of what is and isn't appropriate at work. More than one probably has some past trauma that still haunts them, and pretty much everyone is dealing with some kind of loss in their lives. Yet they show up. They come to move and better themselves. They practice self-care. Sometimes they might not show up and sometimes the self-care might fall short on their to-do lists so when I see them I want to connect. I want to share some light and positivity. I want them to know that they aren't alone so I can remind myself that I also am not alone. I want my gut instinct to always include kindness. I know not everyone can share their struggles, with infertility or any life event, but for me I have to share. I just have to. My head will most definitely go underwater if I don't share it, so I'm sharing it for you and for me. So I can maybe help your head stay above water, too.

I'm not okay. Not in the least. I'm still feeling so sad and still trying so hard to process whatever might come our way, no matter how long our journey is (or isn't!). I think about this 24/7 and feel like I can't escape it, even when I'm laughing or out with friends and family. But I know you might not be okay either. I know my life suck isn't any worse than your life suck. So how about we're more AWARE of others. We're AWARE of hardships. We're AWARE of our words and the power they have. We're AWARE that listening can speak louder than talking. We're AWARE of things we can do to help shine a little bit more light throughout this world. We can do this, and I'm AWARE of that.

How's that for an awareness week?

p.s.--I shared some of these screenshots on my Instagram stories (like, who ever are you if you aren't stalking me on Instagram?), and they are too good not to share again. A friend introduced me to the account @whatthefertility and they had some great responses about shining awareness on certain parts of this infertility journey.