This is an angry post. You might want to stop reading.
Christmas has been cancelled. After a month of umming and ahhing over how I felt about Christmas, I now want it over. Probably stimulated by a status update on Facebook today. This blog sums up my feelings perfectly: Teething Sucks.
In a bit of a meltdown mode, really. Work has been epically hard recently and I'm starting to think that there is absolutely no rhyme or reason to things. I used to think that things took it in turns to be shit: family, relationships or work. Not usually more than one at once but this has been disproved. Completely. I have an extended Twitter family of fellow broken bits who have had a horrible week of losses and not workers and it just isn't fair.
You can't watch television, you can't get on a bus, you can't walk down the street without children, dammit you can't even go on social media without something mentioning or triggering thoughts about babies. I, for one, know that should I ever be in a situation where I need something to make me fake cry- all I have to do is watch that fucking Tesco advert. Oh watch that family grow up over the years and look the daughter has a baby and they're all happy. Seriously, that can just fuck itself up the bum twice.
Chatting to some lovelies on Twitter today and we quantified it. I would have an almost four year old, a 15 month old, a four month old and a three month old or I would be about four months pregnant. I think I'm allowed to be angry. Obviously not all of those babies could exist according to their ages but none of them do. Knowing about the genetic crap has really done nothing other than being a constant black cloud as what can be done that is a definite answer? I remember thinking it was weird in the past that someone on some kind of medical programme, didn't want to know whether they had a genetic disorder in their future but really, what's the point when it's the inevitable?
Another letter:
Dear Friends and Family with children,
Right now, I truly am entirely jealous of you. You have something that I desire with every part of my being and yet I fail to achieve, time and time again. Believe me, I felt the same when you had long term boyfriends and I couldn't get past 10 months; when you got married and I was living with someone; when you bought your first house and I was renting and now; something that I've almost had and yet haven't quite completed again!
It doesn't seem to matter whether you had problems having those babies, there's this weird invisibility cloak that hides the past. Miscarriages, IVF, no baby? Ah, but we have a baby now! We're fine! Well, except for the fact that my babies keep me awake with their teething, my vomit covered clothes and not having a life. Oh what a horrible life you have, my apologies!
To be honest, I felt the same way when you moaned about boyfriend being a bit of a dick (which you were right about), your tears over not finding the right dress and your complaints about being broke due to having a mortgage. I am not a very nice person: I thought myself better than you in that I could still see the beauty of having those things full stop and that whilst grumbles come and go, the overarching greatness outweighed the bad.
I'm sorry. You probably don't want to be my friend on Facebook, on Twitter or in real life. I understand. I'm a bit of a miserable bitch right now. Let's hope that this is a passing phase a bit like my tears on buses after failed dates; the strops over who is or isn't being invited to the wedding; the worrisome decision to buy a nuclear bunker. I know that I am you, just at a different point. I remember a psychotherapist saying that you can't like anyone until you like yourself and right now, I'm a bit of a failure and it's not even something I can work harder at. I am just very jealous of your success.
Always have been.
Your Rubbish Friend, Sister, Daughter, Cousin, Niece, Granddaughter
x
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