Okay, I know I whine about this every time I'm in one of my great, foggy-headed Clomid hazes, but seriously, why is this stuff so flocking AWFUL???
It's like having PMS ALL. THE. TIME. And it's all I can think about.
Literally all I can think of is how much I don't feel like me when I'm on this miserable fertility drug trip. And how much I miss the me I am when I'm not.
Yeah, the mourning, barren, slightly obsessive compulsive and mildly paranoid me. I actually miss her.
For the blissfully uninitiated, it's a little like standing in a giant water glass that is slowly filled to the brim while you stand on the bottom looking out at the world. By some miracle you can breathe and you don't actually die, but you can't react to anything around you the way you're used to, and you see and hear things WAY differently than you normally do. And no, you can't swim up to the top. Or get out. All you can do is stand there on the bottom, stupidly and helplessly, while the pressure of the water relentlessly squeezes the crap out of every little bit of you.
Everything makes you cry. Except stuff that actually should. And every once in a while you think you might actually be going insane, but you're not.
That's when the Clomid laughs its hardest.
Well, it also has a giggle when you allow yourself to consider the prospect of having to do it all over again when the current cycle fails. And it always seems to, doesn't it?
Doing it all again is terrifying to me. It builds up in your system, this heinous thing, and the amplification of crazy is...well, who the hell wants to amplify crazy???
Seriously, why can't they make something that doesn't fuck with your mind in such an awful way? Why? Why? Why?
Women are walking bags of hormones to begin with, can they not invent something that DOESN'T upset that easily upsettable balance??
We can put a man on the moon, but heaven forbid we should find a way to create a drug that doesn't contribute to an infertile woman's pre-existing brand of insanity.
And on that note I'm going to bed. Last night I dreamt that a naked man was carving a life size wooden sculpture with a sword out on his front lawn while My Beloved and I pondered a way to drag the life-sized matchbox car he'd just bought home.
I'm not even safe in my dreams...
Clomid, you are a bitch.