MIA

So, yeah, I've been missing all summer. I've been feeling pretty ambivalent about this blog. There is so much about ttc here. Coming to this blog seems like I must post about trying to get pregnant or infertility and that feels so...burdening. I do post about other things here but, well, after 6 years of ttc dominating my life those other things are few and far between. Blogging is good for me and I want to continue doing it. I just haven't figured out if it is time to retire this blog and start a new one or continue this one with a commitment to write more about the rest of my life? This will take some thinking.

In the meantime, here are some bullet point updates.

• I'm still ttc with our latest known donor through the end of the year. We have put off our last two infertility intervention tries until at least January. I don't plan on continuing ttc after those tries. I often forget when my period is due now because I only pay attention around insem time. I've been emotionally distancing myself from the process with very little effort.
• Monkey is having a hysterectomy in November because of a hefty fibroid that has taken over his uterus. This doesn't really effect our ttc options as Monkey has never been a possibility for so very many other physical and mental health reasons. It does effect timing and this is why we are postponing the IF tries. I can't imagine trying to handle Clo.mid, IUIs and trigger shots while he is preparing, having, and recovering from surgery. Thankfully, the surgeon is confident that it will be laproscopic surgery so recovery time should be only a few weeks. 
• I've spent the summer really trying to accept and embrace a modified life due to my chronic pain conditions. It has changed the way I do things HUGELY. It is still a struggle not to just push through the pain and finish this or that task. I still hate having to pace myself so carefully. I have managed to accept that I must do this or I will end up even more physically disabled than I already am. 
• I've started baking bread weekly to supply the house rather than buying it. (We do have a back up loaf of store-bought bread this week because I've been sick.) I'm really hoping to get a winter veggie garden up and running as well. This is part of embracing homemaking as my career. I feel like there are so few role models for what I'm doing. I'm no June Cleaver and don't want to be. I'm learning to make my own ideal for being the homemaker for my household (with or without kids).

So, that is the highlights. I'll be posting here still until I decide if I need a clean slate blog or if I want to embrace my baby-crazy past and let the current blog evolve with me. 

I'm off to listen to horror fiction podcasts (or maybe some Nine Inch Nails instead) while I dye some sheets black, clean the bathroom and mop floors. (Yeah, definitely NOT June.) 

Who are you?

There is a common argument against psychiatric medication that we are using them to change people's personality. I hear it over and over again "I don't want to pop a pill to change who I am." (In fact, I heard almost exactly that on the latest episode of Glee.) My partner, a Psych Nurse Practitioner, hears this from his patients constantly. I never really understood this argument because I never experienced a huge change in behavior from taking psych meds....until now.

I've always identified more with the dark places. I've always been pessimistic. My music and art of choices tended to be more about the emotional agony that life sometime contains. I've even, without really admitting it, leaned toward the stereotypical dark-colored clothing. I never celebrated these aspects of myself. I knew that a huge part of my affinity to this kind of stuff was my faulty biochemistry. I did accept it though, assuming that nothing could ever change it.

It seems I was wrong. My latest psych drug therapy, along with a good dose of cognitive behavioral therapy, has started to show signs of changing my taste in some things. I've started buying and wearing bright colors. I own a teal hoodie now and a growing collection of bright spring-colored t-shirts. I've also found my usual goth/industrial/angry punk music to be getting less rotation. Instead, I've created a Daft Punk station on my online radio that plays a constant mix of electronic dance music. (My fave has been Daft Punk's Tron Legacy soundtrack.) I enjoy doing yard work. I look forward to sunny days. I smile more. I'm more likely to think things will work out rather than believing every situation will crash and burn. (The one great exception is ttc/infertility. No amount of pills or therapy can lessen the pain of 4 1/2 years of trying to get pregnant and continuing to fail.)

So am I going to be one of those people who say that the pills changed who I am? HELL NO! I've got a bold line between my disease and my identity. I still wear my black t-shirts, choose skull patterns in decor, enjoy a good rain storm and Nine Inch Nails will never leave my iPod, ever. There is room for change and growth in my interests. That room wouldn't exist without the meds and the therapy. My teal hoodie is a trophy of successfully managing my illness. My veggie patch in the yard will be my own kind of victory garden.

This is who I am. This is who I was meant to be if my brain biochemistry hadn't gone haywire. I'm a skull button on a teal hoodie. I'm blue-haired, freckled, kinky, hippie, freak armed with knitting needles and a belief that I can change the world for the better just by being healthy.

(Glee fan side note: I was rather impressed that Glee went on to draw the same line I do between identity and illness. Yay for talking about and properly addressing mental illness without shame.)

Stranger in the mirror

Sometimes changes happen so fast you can't help but notice them. Sometimes changes happen so slow you barely notice...until suddenly you notice it all at once. I think the slow changes are somehow more shocking.

I was wearing a pair of last year's shorts for the first time since losing weight. I had smaller jeans in my wardrobe that I've started wearing as they fit again so I haven't noticed really baggy jeans. My shorts are replaced each summer so I only have the size I wore last spring. (I'm very hard on my shorts and they aren't exactly made to last.) The size I have is a couple sizes too big now. The two pairs I have left from last summer just happened to be slightly smaller in the waist than most of my old shorts and so barely stay on without a belt and hang off my hips.

I was rushing passed a mirror in a grocery store bathroom when I saw myself out of the corner of my eye. I did a double-take. The fabric at my butt was sagging so much I checked my button and fly to see if it had come undone. I knew they were loose. I knew that shorts shopping this year would involve smaller sizes but I didn't really know it. I'm not sure how else to describe it. Seeing my ass, or more precisely not seeing my ass, in that mirror really brought it home to me. My body is changing. I'm smaller now than I've been in years and I've barely started. It makes me wonder what it will be like when, in October, I pull out my winter clothes that I'm packing away now. Will I be just as shocked as I slip into a sweater and find it sagging off me?

Of course, maybe I'll be lucky and next October I'll be searching for the biggest items I have to accommodated a growing baby belly. One way or another, my winter clothes will be fitting differently. Though I am enjoying being a smaller size, I really hope that winter finds me shopping for maternity pants rather than smaller jeans.