I clearly remember a time in third grade, it was the last day to turn in a permission slip for a picnic.I was.really excited about going but I forgot my slip at home.
I didn't like my teacher specially when she said everyone but me could go.
my point? that was one of the first times I remember feeling helpless and desperate. I realy wanted something and it was now out of my reach. I remember.....
this month was my last chance to become pregnant, maybe stay pregnant before the damn myomectomy. I realized the last few days have been drenched in the same dreadful feeling of helplessness and rising desperation.
there is something abour this surgery that I cannot reconcile with. the logical side of me knows its good for me but the rest of me dreads it. its not my first rodeo, not my first surgery then why does this affect me so?
you take the desperation to become pregnant, you add the helplessness at not being able to, stir it with dread over the surgery and sprinkle some unspoken pressure leaving you with a very volatile version of yourself.