There are some pets that can tell when their people are upset, and snuggle and cuddle and try to comfort them.
HRH The Kone is not one of those pets.
There I was bawling, and he was still poking his nose at me – “rezzy rezzy rezzy rezzy rezzy?” So we went to the reservoir, and no, it didn’t “clear my head” or any such bullshit that people blather on about, but in getting that out of the way for today it meant that I could start drinking, since I wouldn’t have to drive anywhere.
Today is honestly reminiscent of the day I was diagnosed with cancer, because it’s that same feeling of watching your dreams die a slow painful death right in front of you.
This time is worse than the second cycle, because at least then I knew I’d be doing cycle #3, so I had hope still. But now? I’m done. Oh sure, maybe if I did enough cycles I’d eventually get more unicorns, but at $20-$25K a pop, that’s not going to happen. So this is it, fini.
I should have known I wouldn’t get the happy ending miracle, because I never do. That’s not how my life works, and it never has. And just when I think things might be turning around, poof, there it all goes into the gutter again. I need to remember this, because it’s so much worse when you have hope that things might change.
I will keep as busy as possible, and in between, try to avoid contemplating why my life turned out as such a failure. I say that not to prompt all the “oh no it’s not” bullshit, but because it’s true; I am the living embodiment of Adaptation. Fat, 40+, single, broke, scarred, barren. Or something just like that. Broke now that I’ve spent my income and savings on this shit, and will soon be completely jobless. Job #1 ended in January, as I was on a temp contract to sub for someone from Canada with her YEAR of maternity leave. Must be nice. Of course they said they’d find a role for me as a contractor, and shockingly that has yet to happen. For job #2, that’s coming to an end in spite of all the clients loving me and my insight development work, because the company I contract with thinks that this insight stuff is complicated and tough to implement and just plain ol’ hard. So they’re “going back to (their) roots.” Okay then.
So, to keep some sense of sanity, I’ll accept that my dreams have come to a crashing halt. I’ll keep busy cleaning and organizing and canning and riding my bike and looking for work. I have Most Excellent Tomatoette Friend Mickey visiting at the end of the month, and since it looks like I won’t be working, we can do all sorts of ridiculous fun things. I’ll do RAGBRAI and the Dairyland Dare (slogan: “Now with fewer crashes!”) this summer, and then I’ll do a transfer of BFU in August, though that has only about a 4% chance of working, so of course it won’t work because that’s not how my life works, all la la la roses, like it seems to be for so many other people, without any effort at all. I will move on with my stupid life. I may try to get knocked up in Vegas (Random Internet Stranger, call me). I will dwell on what could have been, but isn’t. I might very well get pygmy goatsies.
I may hold out hope for the new Ovaprime technology which is supposed to boost old eggs with new mitochondria, but since that’s supposed to cost at least $50K, probably not.
I have removed all my IVF FB groups from my favorites.
If anyone dares to even fucking mention the “a” word in my presence, you will be throat punched so fast your head might literally go spinning off as in a bad kung fu movie.
And tonight I will be burning the unicorn socks.
Because fuck that shit.