My man, hard at work.
(This is from yesterday, 4.15. I was too tired post. Also, I’m counting my video as today’s 365 pic.)
When I said I sometimes hate blogging?
::deep sigh::
It’s not that I hate blogging, per se. And I certainly don’t hate comments. At all.
In fact, I haven’t regretted a single thing I’ve written here or a single piece of feedback I’ve received.
It’s what I hold back that I regret.
Do you ever get in a mood – I guess it’s a toddler-type mood – where you just want to yell and scream and make sure the whole world knows why you’re good and pissed, but then you do a Rachel-from-GLEE move and storm off, ending with a healthy door slam?
Yeah, it’s those moods.
I know, so mature.
But those are the moods that sometimes hit – ones I want to write about for the sake of honesty and integrity – and I tend to clam up and avoid writing about them because I just want to wallow in my mood and not be consoled.
Mark this day down as The One Where Jenny Showed Her Ass On Her Blog.
[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rKYlJnI0ZPU&hl=en]
So. The lighting is terrible; I rush you through the house because I don’t really know what to say and hate awkward silences; and OF COURSE the sun is now shining again. I could have recorded this in natural light.
Ugh. Thank God it’s Friday.
Once upon a time, @MomNom, @jennandtonica, @emmie_bee, @heirtoblair, and @ColeEmmett were talking about home decor on Twitter. We thought it would be so great to be able to see each other’s homes! A *bunch* of other tweeps joined in, @Alena29 put together a terrific button, and #twitterhometour (or #twitterhouseparty) was born! Feel free to join us – add a link to your home tour post (pictures, video, or both!) below.
Click here to enter your link and view the entire list of entered links…
This started out as an e-mail to a friend. Then, before I hit send, I realized it would fit so much better here.
*****
To: Friend Who Would Understand
Subject: Sometimes I hate blogging
Message:
I love blogging, actually. Sometimes I just hate blog comments. Nice ones. Like today. Beacuse I’m having a Day with Angry Infertile Feelings, and I want to blog about it because it’s important for people to know.
Sometimes I just don’t want the (((((hugs))))) or the “I love you”s or the “I’m sorry”s.
Sometimes I just want to spout off my anger and have the satisfaction of leaving people feeling as helpless as I feel. Sometimes I want nothing more than wide-eyed stares and clamped-shut mouths. Because you know what? Sometimes nice comments only make me feel worse.
I’ve been trying lately to come up with a list of ways I’m a better person now than I was before Rob and I started down this path of Fertility Gloom And Doom.
It isn’t going so well.
I try telling myself that I’m a better friend to those who are putting every ounce of their being into making their dreams come true, who are suffering through pain and difficulties to make their dreams come true, who are trying to make their dreams come true when so many tell them to quit.
I try telling myself I’m more compassionate.
I try telling myself I’m more patient.
I try telling myself I’ve helped others with something I would have felt helpless with in the past.
I try telling myself Rob and I understand each other on a whole different level – pretty amazing, considering we’ve been in each other’s lives for 15 years.
I try telling myself I’ve learned the value of having friends on which to lean.
I try telling myself I’ve definitely, without a doubt, felt the power of prayer.
I try telling myself I am stronger than ever before.
But then there are days like today. Moments, really. They’re the ones that sneak up on me and smack me on the back of the head, throwing me down onto the ground, face first.
Today I was reading a book to a friend’s little girl. Suddenly, the thought creeped into my head: I’ve already lost two pregnancies. When will I get to share my love of books with my own little one? Will it happen?
I pushed the thought aside and kept reading about Peter Rabbit, choking back the tears and forcing myself to make my voice strong and clear.
Then I started the next book, one I’ve read so many times before: “Lilly’s Purple Plastic Purse” by Kevin Henkes. In it, Lilly gets mad at her teacher and does something mean. Her teacher slips a note into her purple plastic purse that she discovers on her way home from school:
“Today was difficult.
Tomorrow will be better.”
One thing I’m slowly learning to accept is that sometimes you just have to call a spade a spade. I have difficult days. Oh, boy I really do. But instead of feeling guilty, trying to change things and worrying about getting rid of the bad/sad/mad mood, I’m learning to embrace it. The bad days are part of this journey, too, after all.
Today was difficult. Tomorrow will be better.
