Waiting for Wednesday

I find my time is passing from Wednesday to Wednesday because the original offer came to us on a Wednesday morning.  I wake up and automatically think of what day it is and how many more sleeps until Wednesday.  When Wednesday comes and I don't get a phone call from "unknown caller" I sigh and start the countdown again.

I guess that's hope...

Feeling Better

Well, I do feel better now.  I'm still sad and I get angry easily, but it isn't as all-consuming as it was last month.  I now sing and dance around like normal.  I have gained the weight I lost at the end of last year (boo!) but I'm not as lethargic so I feel I will turn it around again soon. 

I do feel very self-conscious about any decision I make.  I think it is all stemming from whether, or not, this adoption was the correct path for Mike and me.  It has been quite hard but my worry over what I can't control with this is leaking into even simple decisions, like which kind of cheese to buy?

I still haven't began my artsy endeavours but I hope to soon. In the meantime I am hoping my soon-to-expire travel visa means I WILL get the call to go just after.

I hope...

Getting My Groove Back

I have forced myself to sing and dance around the kitchen everyday.  It feels good.  I can't believe how I had stopped singing!  I had even stopped in the backroom at work... it is so obvious now that I am forcing it.  It will become natural soon enough though. 

I still get angry at least once a day.  It is becoming anger at things beyond what just happened.  I am getting angry at things that our attempt to have a kid had created ages ago.  I am starting to feel more anger at the fact that I couldn't get pregnant and what that means now.  If I go off the pill I essentially go into a menopausal state.  I didn't ovulate naturally for 11 months before forcing it with hormones.  Why?  No one can tell me.  Tell me I don't have a uterus but tell me something!  And now, after the months and months of hormones and the most painful, and fascinatingly disgusting, cycles I have not had a day where my ovaries haven't hurt.  I feel like I have noticed it more since I've been more sullen and still.  I can normally ignore things like this because I am moving around but I often feel sharp stabs of pain where my ovaries are.  I think it's the ovaries because that specific area was heated up by the radioactive liquid in one of my many tests.  It is the same place inside of me.  I can't sleep on my stomach anymore because that is when they really hurt; it's like the weight of my body presses down on them and hurts.  I never experienced this before all the tests and hormones.  Again, why do I have to live with it now?  What is wrong with my insides?

Ok, I could really go on and on.  Needless to say, I have spiraled in my "poor me" outlook - and that makes me mad too.  Keep forcing the normalcy from before and it WILL return. 

Counciling Homework

I was told to find a project.  My first instinct was to find something that had to do with Kid - so I felt progress towards the adoption.  I had been shown the adoption maternity photos and enlisted the help of Paul Clarke Photography and created some beautiful images.

Thank you so much Paul.
This is not a "normal" subject matter and hope to create more in the future.

They have given me something to look at and to focus.  I honestly haven't been able to do yoga since this fell through.  I can't quiet my mind (also why I can't sleep) thus making yoga near impossible to enjoy.  Now I can hopefully make a focal point in my room to concentrate on.  I'm still scared to try so it might take another week.

My councilor also told me I had to do at least two days with a physical activity to start physically working my anger out of me.  I will hopefully jump on the elliptical tomorrow after work.  I will see how I feel.  I miss the stretching and "sinking in" from yoga and hope to work towards it. I would love to go outside and run but the stupid snow won't stop!

I had excitement from a project for the home.  I made a rolling spice rack for the kitchen.
 It is now done and I feel I did it too fast.  sigh.

I look forward to learning how to knit and crochet.

The councilor tried some art therapy with me since she knew I liked arty things.  She wanted me to go with my gut instinct and I blacked out an entire page and couldn't do it fast enough.  Then wrote a bunch of angry words on the next page.  She said we had to pull those feelings through the blackness in order to make the blackness less all-encompassing.  I agree.  Part of it is admitting what I'm angry about.  I took the journal I had started for Mak and turned it into a journal for me.  I wrote about how I was angry that I felt forced to celebrate on Christmas when I didn't feel like it - it was, after all, the first day we were supposed to spend with Mak!  I wrote about the stupid customers at work.  I wrote about the rudeness and inconsiderateness of the agency recently.  I don't want to go into details of what happened this week because I feel like there is a chance this blog could bite us in the ass if I do.  Needless to say it had me in the basement at work crying and screaming obscenities and throwing around metal sign holders.  It felt good.  I wrote and wrote and wrote.

The councilor also asked me to start singing again.  She had asked if I enjoyed singing and I said yes but that I didn't realize until that moment that I had stopped.  I don't sing in the shower.  I stopped playing my music while cooking or doing other activities.  I don't sing along with the radio.  She told me to start even if it feels stupid and forced.  She said eventually it will feel normal again and it's another physical activity that will help me surmount this grief mountain.

Well, that's it now.  Even writing on here feels like something I SHOULD be doing instead of WANTing to do.  Life doesn't feel natural - if that makes any sense.  It will.  That was part of the reason I sent out the Christmas cards this week.  It was something I would normally do; it was something I had planned on doing; I felt the need to complete that task.

In the meantime, I will start singing, run twice a week and work up to yoga, learn to knit/crochet, and continue to be a bitch because all of that feels like a good thing.  LOL!

Good Grief...

Seriously - good grief.

I went to a grief councilor today.  It was recommended to me.  I never thought that all the anger I have is grief but, HELLO!, one of the classic five stages of grief!  It was the first of a few, and a major 'get to know you,' sessions.  I did get a lot out of it and I look forward to the next one.  I feel bad always talking to Mike about things because he doesn't see things the same way or always knows what to say.

I told her about how work is such a trigger for my anger and that I'm not used to it.  She said that it's ok and good that I'm letting myself feel that anger by leaving the work floor and either crying or breathing it out by myself for a few minutes.  She also said it's good that I have cried.

She said I needed to do more for myself.  She said that if I hadn't wanted to "do" Christmas that that was ok and I could have stood my ground because it was what I needed (and now I have residual anger over that whole holiday too!).  She told me that I also needed to find something for me because I went from having hope,things to do to feel productive about the adoption, AND my play to having nothing to do -all in one shot.  She also told me to continue writing.  As previously stated, I was writing in a journal to Kid once he had a name... I stopped after saying that I lost him.  She suggested turning it into a journal for me or starting a new one for this in between stage plus the new proposal.

She said I needed a project for Kid too.  I spent all this time prepping for Kid and now I have nothing left to do so, make something useful to do!  I'm going to go to the fabric store tomorrow and look over patterns and see what's out there.  She told me where to look for community art/active classes.  I just missed the sign up for the winter session but at least I know where to look later on.  She said I also needed to take an hour to myself, at least 3 times a week, in order to FEEL and accept the grief.  I can feel angry or cry, or whatever, but I need to do that and then leave it there...

I DO feel a bit better all around though.  We did something positive for ourselves in order to re-establish our hope (or maybe, mainly, just mine).  I think it worked.  I saw the fruits of our results today and I am quite satisfied.  I will share it all on here eventually... a bit more time..

In the next week I plan to take those hours, go to the fabric store to explore a new project, and continue to write for me.  I was going to by a new journal as my original intent was to leave my writings for Mak if this fell through (I had thought if it fell through it'd be because of my medication and not because his Mom came back)but he won't be coming to Canada and learning English and I'm not paying a translator to make my writings Russian.  Ergo, I thought I should continue to write in that beautiful journal (which I had been saving for a special writing occasion) and poor into it all of my ugly thoughts.   Then, for future reference and hopefully, all my the ugliness will be sandwiched between the beauty and hope of my want and being a mum.

Good grief!

Isn't it Ironic?

My favourite photography subject is a pregnant woman.  I had never photographed on until a friend asked me a few years back.  That subject is just the most beautiful I can imagine.  It's a tad ironic that I won't have my own glowing photos...

It's okay.  I have ideas.

My cousin was talking to me about maternity photos and she said, as she gazed out her window at what was a pretty snow scene, she wished more ladies would do maternity shoots in the snow.  The next day I had a wonderful message from an old friend and she concluded by emphasizing that I must continue to BELIEVE.

This is the result of those two bugs that were swarming around in my brain for many days now...

Unconditional Comfort

So, after having a 'down' day I call my mum.  I always want to talk to her when I have worries or sadness.  She makes it go away.

I want that kind of relationship with someone younger.  I want to be looked to for unconditional comfort.

Mum had a bad day too.  She told me I made her feel better.  That felt good to return the favour.