Warning: This post is rated at least PG13.ParentalDiscretion is advised. Children under 13 should probably not read it. Actually, if you are under 13, or anywhere near 13, step away from your computer and go ask your parents why the hell you'd be interested in an infertility blog anyway.
I'm not (very) dramatic. I'm not one of those people who needs dysfunction and drama to survive. I like it when life is calm, even a little boring. I hate it when I'm being super-emotional. You just know the Cosmic Gods of Irony are rolling around in spasms of laughter at what the drugs are doing to me. For any 13-year-olds who are still reading, heed my words. Drugs are bad.
These fucking hormones are going to be the death of me. I'm on CD6, I haven't taken a single clomid or estrogen in almost three weeks. I assumed things would be getting back to normal soon.
Normal. You know, like not freaking out over little things. Who put the fork in the spoon spot in the silverware drawer?? Not crying over stupid stuff. I forgot to feed the cat today? She must feel so unloved and unwanted, I'm such a rotten person. Not getting irrationally pissed off over stuff that shouldn't bother me. Why the hell are the neighbors mowing their grass right now when I want quiet? Damn them.
Yeah. So I'm not there yet.
1 comment:
Only question yourself if you take the fork, stick in it your cat's ass and tie him to the lawn mower.
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