Granted, pity parties are not the ideal state to be in, but neither is sitting on the couch watching a brainless romance movie eating a tub of ice cream.
The last memorable pity party I had, after a particularly bad day at the office where I managed to send a rather blunt response *about* a difficult customer *back* to the customer instead of to my secretary where I intended it to go (the fallout was not pleasant), did not involve icecream.
I drink alcohol on average, 2 times a year (and no, I'm not averaging the first 18 years of my life in order to get a "good" number ). Anyway, instead of icecream and romance, I picked up a 6-pack of Coors and a big bag of Fritos, came home and told NOP and child not to talk to me tonight and I proceeded to have my pity party.
Quote:
Everyone has something that they regret, some have had that regret forced upon them.
Life dreams lost are extremely painful and I think will always leave a bruise on your soul. Women who want children and have difficulty conceiving can perhaps identify with Cac's sense of loss. What he has encountered was not only the equivalent of discovering you can't conceive, but you're going to have to have an immediate hysterectomy. Ouch.
I don't think that's something that you can battle once, win and be done. Every monthly period for close to 2 decades was a punch in the gut to me - probably similar to what Cac feels when one of the big boys flies over. For a couple of years, I avoided families that had new infants, not from jealousy but because the longing was so hard that I had great difficulty disguising my emotional turmoil. And lord love the well meaning friends and family who tried to encourage me when I did manage to conceive again and then proceeded to miscarry. It did not help to be told "it's for the best" or "you'll get pregnant again" or "there was probably something wrong in the first place". They meant well, but the lesson I carried away from that is to mourn with those who mourn - don't try to say something intended to make them feel better.
So, Cac and Mrs Cac - big, bruisy beer swilling Frito snacking hugs from this part of the world.
). Anyway, instead of icecream and romance, I picked up a 6-pack of Coors and a big bag of Fritos, came home and told NOP and child not to talk to me tonight and I proceeded to have my pity party.
