Dealing with disappointment

I decided to write this before the sobbing subsides. I am naturally (or as a result of my upbringing) a pessimist. Or a cynic. Or both. So I went into this month assuming that I would not be pregnant after the artificial insemination 2 weeks ago.

But, while I talked the talk, I obviously let a glimmer of hope in, as since my period arrived at 6am this morning I haven’t been able to stop crying. I felt like it might come yesterday and had contingencies in place - I would go out and buy litres of red wine to scoff to console myself… after having gone without for a few weeks.

Instead I lay there in bed last night. Wondering and waiting before eventually sleeping. Then, like clockwork, there it was up bright and early. With the birds.

Work has been busy and I had to leave a bit early Friday for other commitments so I felt I could not take the day off. After all, there may be a few of ‘these’ days of disappointment if I keep trying. So, I lay in the bath, listened to loud music over headphones and drank diet coke. Not having to worry about my caffeine intake or eating a healthy breakfast, I lay there, cried before getting dressed and to my bus stop.

What I endured then, was the bus trip from hell. I was greeted at the stop by a regular (and neighbour) who I don’t particularly like. The first thing she asked me was, what’s wrong. I must have looked that bad. So then it started. I attempted polite conversation with her but from the moment I got on the bus the sobbing started. And it didn’t stop. As the bus was full, I was not only at the front, but sitting side-on, in profile view of all of the other 7am commuters. Initially I tried to subtly poke at my eyes and turn my head to the front and wipe away tears before they fell. However, the 4.5km ride ended up taking 90 minutes. Every time I thought I had myself under control I lost it again. I blew my nose on my headband and kept wiping my tears away with my shirt. Every so often I faked a cough in the hope that my fellow passengers thought I was fighting a cold not bawling my eyes out, in front of 50 semi-strangers.

I thought that the busy-ness of work would keep me focused. It didn’t. I lasted for an hour and a half – constantly crying through the emailing and calls. Fortunately I face a wall. Unfortunately people need to come and ask me stuff. All of the time. I felt unprofessional. I felt devastated.

So, I packed up and skulked off. I can - and will - work from home, but I feel bad – that it has come to this. Me sobbing inconsolably. A friend offered to call. I said not to cos I can’t talk. I am used to dealing with things alone. I do want to talk to my mother though. She won’t mind if I cry down the phone to her. She hasn’t been supportive of this but she will be sad for me.

I had contingencies in place. I have felt so bad about myself recently that I decided that only a fat camp would whip me into shape. And I don’t mean a health retreat, where pampering treatments feature on the pricey menu – but a non-stop no frills boot camp type thing. After some investigating I discovered a former “Biggest Loser” competitor has one near Melbourne. At about half the cost of the pricey health retreats, it is akin to that competition. Big house, own room but shared facilities. Teams and training. You have to be 20kgs overweight and can only go in two week blocks. I can go from 10 May.

My contingency plan has been that I have this month (May) off the fertility drug / baby-making exercise and do this. Now I am thinking I might need to go for a month. I need something earth-shattering to wake me up and bring me back to life. I hate that my life has come to this. How could I ever love anyone else (anyway) when I hate myself so much?

So, perhaps I have that to look forward to. In the meantime I need to find some short-term coping mechanisms. It is 10.30 in the morning so red wine probably isn’t a good idea and champagne seems entirely inappropriate. Instead I will wait to talk to my mum, drink diet coke, do some work and keep crying.