Undone

So I (seems like ages ago) had a miscarriage. You all remember. It’s nearly been 10 years. We were discussing this at work. Mostly because I said that a woman’s fertility is a sensitive issue.

It is.

Once upon a time, after i had my miscarriage, within 3 months I’d say, I was out visiting teaching. I was in a new ward. Instead of approaching the issue of me not having kids with a genuine desire to get to know me better, in a sweet way asking “Are you and Scott planning on starting a family soon?” or even a base “How long have you been married?” SOMETHING, my companion jumped in with a “Gosh Meryl, you better start having kids!” or something teasing of that sort. Teasing is for people who (on some level) know each other, and are comfortable with each other. I don’t know them. I remember smiling tightly. Smiling was hard. Being outside was hard, watching her drape her baby over her arm in exasperation was hard. So I said what I could, as nice as I could.

“I actually just had a miscarriage.”

and then i just let the room get awkward. I wanted them to be ashamed of asking. Because honestly– it’s no one’s business but mine and my husband’s. I have friends I talk about my fertility with. I have people I empathize with when they struggle. It’s a weird thing for a woman, to have a hard time getting pregnant, staying pregnant, etc. You feel broken. When people ask about it like it’s just as easy as walking to the mailbox– it’s frustrating. I didn’t know that people had a hard time getting/staying pregnant. I think before that I knew… two people. Total. Now I know MANY women who struggle with fertility issues of all kind. Their stories are heartbreaking. It doesn’t make them less, but it can make them feel less. You’re not quite a woman if you can’t have a baby. For me it was the thing I had grown up thinking and dreaming of. Having kids, having a family with my husband. I know it’s a bit stereo typical– but it was always what I wanted. And the fact that there was a speed bump on the way to it, it was devastating.

Could I have said something nicer? Like “Oh we’re trying.” or “How do we do that?” something funny and clever. I was depressed, I was sad. I was broken. I wanted to make those people feel an equal amount of awkwardness for how much hurt I felt in my heart. It was a moment of weakness, and I made a bad decision.

Moral of the story: Don’t ask people about their baby making progress unless you are prepared to hear a real answer.

Derringer Meryl [Babies] Out

People are often shocked when I say I’m socially awkward. I think that’s because I feel awkward, but i”m not.

Also I don’t like people initially. I would say there is probably a 5% of the populace that I like on my first meeting them. Usually those people are the ones who aren’t trying too hard. Try not to take this offensively, the fact of the matter is, no matter what (nearly) you’ll grow on me, and I’ll love you loads and loads. Some people get a free pass into me liking them. I became their friend before I hit Puberty or you were a friend/girlfriend of one of my older siblings, and so you got a free pass into me liking you. The rest of you? Get to work!

I’ve been trying to piece together why specific people get on my nerves. First and foremost, I don’t like people who are strong. I like people who are awkward like me, or laid back casual, fun people.  People who have an “in your face” interface just BUG me. If what you say is God’s Law, you better get out of my way cause I tend to mimic the people I am around, and while I’m normally whatever, you best be prepared for me to get SASSAY. (Oh Geeze did I just write that. Oh. yes.) In any case. It’s true. If you are obstinate and rude and think you’re God’s gift to this fine world, then you’re about to get a reality check from me, I don’t care about you. And I can do with out. Thanks.

I highly don’t like being corrected. I don’t like people who are younger than me talking like they know more than I do. It may be fact, but I’m elderly and infirmed,  so be polite to your elders. If I say the sun circles around mars you best just plaster a smile on your face and say “Sure it does” and then snicker to your friends about how unhip I am. Also– FYI in case you didn’t get the 411, I don’t like being on the outside of stuff. It drives me mad when people get together and get into groups and I am, for whatever reason, naturally left on the outside. I sometimes don’t mind so much– but sometimes being out with people at a party or whatever is my only adult interaction– and I get annoyed when that’s taken away. Let’s face it. Don’t play a game that takes 6 people when you have 18 people at a party. Not nice! (I’m looking at you In laws. I didn’t want this to be rude, it’s coming across that way, so i figured I”d man up and just say it! haha.)

I’ve gotten kind of tired of reeling myself in on my blog posts. It felt unfulfilling and unnatural for a long time. I like writing as me. That last post– well it was AWESOME to write. It felt GOOD. And while I try to abstain from feeling marvelous, I am tired of just doing “oooh I’m such an awful mommy” posts. Good Lord. So I thought I’d let my brain walk on the wild side since my commends are just bursting with commentary and I just don’t know what to do with them all. I will have to purchase as second server! *le sigh*

I think that would require me purchasing the first one, wouldn’t it?

What was I saying again?

RIGHT awkward. I think this post is evidence of that. Some people would directly come out and say “Hey that bugs me” But even in blog form I wriggle around it like a fish, or a worm on a hook.

Huh. A lot of fishing references there.

Anyway. I am not direct. I am meandering, and I try to be as funny as I can until I get there, and then I break into tears because I feel like a horrible person. BUT — (OPRAH AHAH MOMENT HERE) I am not a horrible person because some things bother me. I think everyone has pet peeves (See previous post!) and maybe I have more than others, but everyone is different, and that’s what makes us special. I think that needs a new word. We can’t all be special. Some people are similar. It’s like having over 1 trillion character traits. You’ll find something in common with some people. Similarities, but no one is exactly the same. I’ll think on the word Idea.

I think My general problem is that I do think I’m a terrible person. Not like Godzilla terrible (OOH NO GOZILLA!) more like… a Hot mess. Like when you judge Britney spears for being a bad mom? That kind of terrible. Like people Judge me as terrible. Here’s a few of my terrible Secrets: I yell. A lot. Like I remember as a Kid that my dad yelled, and I thought it was terrifying. I yell like that. I remember as a teen thinking “Oh I don’t have a temper” but really I just didn’t care about anything. I care about too much now. Stuff matters. Like bills and clothing children and food and what not. It’s stressful stuff. Scott has the right attitude which is “It matters, but we’re not homeless, or about threadbare” (we so aren’t) “So just relax, things will be ok.” And it’s true. I just have some sort of hyper active… worry node in my brain. Do people have those? Worry nodes? I think I have 20. I will proudly admit that I have not hyperventilated since December (of 2010) and I’m dang proud of it. I don’t like to wear my anxiety as some sort of shame. I realize usually, about 10 min after my freak out, that I”m being ridiculous. I have checks in place now. Mostly that when I feel a freak out coming on, i ask scott to tell me I’ll be ok. I usually am. Occasionally. All the time.

I am however, Not freak out free, I had one like… 5 days ago? When I have no adult to keep me in check, I go BEZERKER and scream a bunch. It’s embarrassing in public. I wish like Mary Tyler Moore should do like a PSA on irrational rage bursts or something. {To be momentarily serious, My rages usually involve a lot of screaming, then taper off into crying, and then a small hate spiral… or large, for those who don’t know what a hate spiral is, I just repeat in my head how much I hate myself, and find reasons, in a big circle, or a little one. No violence except some child like foot stomping that usually hurts my foot. Seriousness over, for the moment} I’ll full on admit that I have Issues. I am like the poster girl for issues. I wish I could find a medication that I could shoot into my arm instead of a pill. Cause really — I can’t do pills. I’m Just… Too spazzy for pills. Too much! I forget them, and that just causes me to go off kilter and it kind of triggers the angry shame stuff I mentioned before. It’s like A) Take a pill and feel ok sometimes unless you forget to take it for a day, and then Go nuts and then start back up, etc etc.  or B) just try and not go nuts.  I prefer the second one.

Geeze. how did I get all blah about down stuff? Back to your regularly scheduled whackiness.

Mean while, I will keep Living my little cinderella life (Ie working/being a mom) and hope that someday my “prince” (not working) will come along 😉 someday!

Derringer Meryl [ Don’t you judge me!] Out