Life in my head...

Be warned

Be warned:  If you call me when I'm asleep, there are no bounds to the imagination when it comes to what I might say.  Sunday on the way to church, I had one of my sledgehammer migraines.  I'd been a bit pissy while getting ready for church, but I hadn't had any other prodromal symptoms, so the migraine was a bit of a shock.  Anyway, I made it through church without vomiting or fainting or anything else that might embarrass me.  When we went home, I went straight to bed.  Sometimes I have to go to bed because that is what the migraine demands, sometimes I go to bed because I just need to escape from my reality.  My mother called at what would be, for any normal person, a reasonable time.  I was asleep.  Unfortunately for all involved, I make quite the lively conversationalist when I'm asleep.  I'll talk to anyone about anything while I'm asleep, and I'll sound like I know what I'm saying, but I don't.  Mom experienced that when she called.  I brightly told her that we would go where they were with the baby.  1) I don't have a baby. 2) they weren't anywhere special, and I had no intention of going to their house.  Mom asked me to repeat myself, which I happily did, and then she asked if I were asleep.  "Umm, yeah, I guess I'm asleep!"  At least I'm a cheerful sleep talker.

I just finished Innocent Traitor by Alison Weir, and I loved it!  I knew the ending from history class, but I just kept hoping that Lady Jane Grey would grow old and have a happy marriage.
I'm listening to Cowboy Junkies.  I had forgotten how wonderful they were until that first track started.

Another day with a good book

One of my coworkers loaned me three books by the same author, and I'm loving the first one!  It's called What the Cat Dragged In by Gilbert Morris.  I can't wait to finish this one and get on to the next! 

Today is a crap day as far as migraines go, but I'm still going to tough it out and go to work.  If I ever manage to get pregnant, I'll need the sick days.

Flood in the house

Our dishwasher flooded yesterday, and water ended up under the carpet.  Whee.  We had to pull the carpet up and run a fan all night to dry the padding out.  I guess I should be grateful it wasn't worse.  I have a migraine today, it's sort crept up on me.  I'd love to just go to bed, but I have to teach childbirth class tonight.  That should be interesting, as I'm already having dysphasia from it. 

on a happier note

I made it through the night without printing out divorce papers and having them ready for Monday filing.

On to my books!  I just finished A Thousand Splendid Suns, and I was thoroughly pleased with it.  I was so afraid that it would not live up to the expectations set by The Kite Runner.  It's definitely as good as The Kite Runner.  It was one of those stories that you can't wait to see how it ends, but when it does you are so sorry it's over and you don't know how the characters' lives go on.

life is, well, life

If any of you are still out there reading, I'm sorry for my absence.  I just get really sick of talking about my migraines.  They are my life, they consume me and affect every thing I do and think.  And now that I've thrown trying to conceive into my already chaotic, miserable life,  I have even less I feel like talking about.  We have reached the point where in vitro fertilization is probably my only option.  In vitro is expensive and offers no guarantees.  But how do I accept a "no" and go on?  I can't.  I hate that my life is so in control of others and other things.  I don't have the final say over anything.  I cannot even decide to just go for the IVF, because I'm married and it's his choice, too.  I feel bound and tied by the wishes and needs of others.  We went to a movie tonight, and because of the subject matter there were a lot of teen girls in the theater.  And I remembered what that was like, and it made me sad.  When I was 18 I had the world at my feet and all the potential to make it what I wanted.  I answered to no one except my parents, and at that point they just wanted me to make something of my life.  I was healthy, I was pretty, and I had a million choices and options.  And I made them, and I can't go back.  And I'll always wonder if they were the right choices.  If I'd married someone else, would I have started trying to conceive earlier, and therefore avoided all these problems?  If someone had told me when I was 18 that this would be my life at 35, I don't know that I would have continued on with life.  I hate hurting all the time.  I hate working every day with pregnant women, many who do nothing but piss and moan about the irritations of pregnancy; I would give anything to be in their place.  I hate being 35 and knowing that this is my life.  This is as good as it gets, unless something miraculous happens.  And I don't know if I can face that existence.

On a lighter note, my dear cat keeps me constantly entertained and loved.  I understand how women become that old crazy lady with all the cats.  It doesn't seem like such a bad way to be.  To be loved by a cat is to be truly loved, because they do not throw their affections about lightly.  A small house surrounded by cats and NO people?  Sounds like as close as we get to heaven on earth.