I’ve decided it’s time to truly live in this space again. If I’m going to write here, I need to write here. Not edit out of fear. Not worry about “what if” someone reads something into something or doesn’t understand or judges.

It’s not that I’ve been dishonest. I’ve simply left things out because it is complicated. When your “real” life and your virtual life collide sometimes things are tricky.

The truth is running has been going well. My race is a week from tomorrow. I’m running intervals right now, because after running the full 30 minutes I had a lot of pain in my foot, so I’m trying to mitigate some of that. The funny thing is I actually have sped things up by running intervals (alternating running and walking) and finally did a 5k in less than 35 minutes.

My birthday was a very running birthday. I got the Nike+ GPS watch, a subscription to Running World magazine, and sunglasses (for running). All good motivators to keep me on track (no pun intended).

Running has been good for me in many ways. Unfortunately it doesn’t always work to take the sting and pain of things away when they come swinging at me. Sometimes I can take the hit and keep going, and sometimes I land flat on my ass and see stars. Now is one of those times.

I feel like I’ve taken 10 steps backwards in the healing process. A friend had her long awaited and much loved baby girl recently and I’ve tumbled emotionally. I’m not sure if it’s because it coincided with my birthday (this time last year I was pregnant), and overlapped some difficult friend issues, but I’ve been left almost gutted. I’ve cried more in the past few days than I have in the past 2 1/2 months. I’m crying writing this.

And truly it’s hard to tell if the feelings are weighted more on the side of the babyness of it all or the friendship part of it all, and I’m not certain it really matters, because they’re both in there. All I know is I’ve had to take a giant step back away from social media, and put a little box around my heart right now because it’s incredibly sensitive. And while I know in doing so I risk having people not understand and have their feelings hurt, I don’t know what else to do.

A very close friend of mine said that infertility isn’t fair and my feelings are just as valid as anyone else’s, but it’s really hard to remember that when I’m the one who’s supposed to be ok being where I’m at and at peace with everything. But the truth is I’m not there yet. I’m a hell of a lot closer than I was a few months ago, which is partly why I hate how I feel right now so much. I’ve cried in front of my kids, cried in front of my friends, cried in front of my wife, and the tears just seem to keep coming.

You know how we talk about IF as a rollercoaster? That once you get on, it’s difficult to get off of if? This part is like when you get off the roller coaster and you’re really nauseous, and it takes all flipping day to shake it off.

On top of everything, school starts for the kids on Wednesday. N is really struggling with the “unknown”-ness of it all, and I’m calling on all my resources to help make things easier for him. We’re going to visit the school and hopefully his classroom and his teacher from last year on Tuesday. Work is total insanity and causing an huge amount of stress.

The truth is right now, things are hard. I’m not entirely sure how to claw my way back up to where I was, other than to get up tomorrow morning, and run. Run as if I’m starting over. And step back from what hurts, even if it means others don’t understand. I have put myself aside a lot in order to be a good friend, and it’s time to be as good to myself as I am to others.


6 thoughts on “Truth

  1. I’m so glad that running’s been good for you and a way to heal. I’m sorry that things are still rough in places too. I know that it will all heal in time (even though im sure it doesnt deelthat way) and the combination of running, and writing will help ❤

  2. K, I’m so sorry that you’re finding yourself in this place. I think that these difficult parts are sort of like a running injury … in order to go the distance, sometimes you have to rest, to take care of yourself first. Or like what they say on airplanes about oxygen masks: you have to put your own on first before you help other people, as much as that’s difficult to do. I hope that you can be gentle to yourself, and know that you have a community of people who love and support you, even if you need to step away for a while.

  3. Running AND writing are what keep me sane. Running helps me process my thoughts and find solutions or workarounds (when there is one). In writing, sometimes it’s tough to open up and let others in, but through my blog I’ve found that when I put myself out there I receive in return – even if it’s just someone saying, “I understand. You are not alone.”

  4. Run. Run like you mean it. Run like you have no other choice. I’m sorry my baby’s birth has thrown you under the train, I understand and have been there. I love you and will still be here for you.

  5. Man, I could have written this post today. I have moments where I know I’ll be okay, at some point down the road, and I come home from a workout and feel strong and healthy, and then open up Bacefook and see that my best friend’s husband posted a f*cking BELLY PICTURE of her… and BAM! Right back into the Suckage.

    I wish I knew a way out that made it not hurt anymore. But all I know is what you’re doing – keep running, keep breathing, and when it hurts too much take a step back and gather your energy until it doesn’t hurt as much. I’m doing it too.

    You’re not alone.


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