When I was in school working on my psych degree, the plan was always that I would go on to get my masters in clinical psych and that I would then work with abused and neglected children. Now that that hasn’t happened, my psych degree has become something of a joke to me.
Don’t get me wrong; I loved my college years, I am proud of my degree, and I really think I learned a ton about people and myself in that time. That said – what the heck am I going to do with a bachelor’s degree in psychology? It has basically just become filler for me to get jobs that require a degree – any degree – they don’t care what the degree is, they just want you to have a degree.
I think like a psychologist, but I always feel really lame jumping in with “well, when I was a psych major” prior to postulating on any number of psychological issues. Who wants to hear from the know-it-all psych major?
Still – that part of me is very much so there, and I think about the psychological effects of just about every situation everyone I know is ever in.
Unless we are talking about me. When it comes to myself I tend to like to slap my happy face on and pretend as though nothing could ever faze me.
I tend to prefer coming off as totally sane and in control, even in my own mind. I don’t like thinking about the psychological toll certain events may or may not have taken on me, because that is like admitting that I allowed myself to be taken under by something out of my control. While I totally believe that to be the case with my younger years, I don’t like to admit that weakness in myself as an adult.
I’ve been thinking a lot lately though, about the psychological effects of infertility. On me, on those around me, and on those who I’ve never met. I’ve been wondering about what ways this has changed me, and how it effects and changes others.
There is a conversation going on right now at the community about the psychological impact of infertility. The psych major in me would love it if you would hop over and participate and give me your perspective about how this struggle has changed and possibly even defined you.
I haven’t wanted to allow this disease or this struggle to define me at all. I have fought it in many arena's of my real life, not wanting my infertility to become the focal point of my relationships (although, I do have a few amazing sounding boards in my life who have been there for me in ways I will never be able to repay). In other arenas though, it has clearly taken over. My internet life for instance – single infertile female has become who I am – I honestly don’t know how I feel about that. On the one hand, I am ever grateful for this outlet to vent, connect, and learn. On the other hand, I don’t know if I am comfortable with the idea of embracing this label so openly. I’m not sure it’s healthy.
Especially since I can’t imagine giving this world up now.
Beyond that though, I would say the biggest psychological impact I have had is my obvious inability to care anymore about my own appearance. I have always been more comfortable in jeans and a t-shirt, but I’ve also always worked to look good. Since this began, my interest in my own appearance has slowly faded though. I rarely take the time to put on makeup, my hair (which hasn’t been cut in far too long) is much more often shoved under a ball cap than reveling in its own curly splendor, and I can’t wait to get home most days and throw on my sweats. I have effectively given up. I haven’t gained any weight (although, if I wasn’t so driven to be healthy for baby I probably would have – I am typically a comfort eater), or truly let myself go – I’ve just stopped caring as much. I haven’t actually tried to look nice in a very long time.
Partially I think it’s that I’m mad at my body. I feel like it let me down, and so I’ve given up on keeping it pretty. I also think part of it is that I honestly feel like less of a woman, and as a result; the primping and preening that encompasses being a woman no longer fits how I feel. It hasn’t been a conscious decision at all on my part – it’s just one of those things that happened.
I am not depressed. If anything, I am actually a pretty optimistic and happy person. I have not allowed myself to wallow in this or let it consume me. But I have allowed it to affect how I look at myself; how I feel about myself. It’s not so much a lack of self confidence (I don’t really spend any time worrying about this at all – I think a lack of self confidence is typically defined as constantly being focused on what is wrong with your appearance - that's not me), it is truly just a lack of caring. I have stopped caring about my outward appearance.
And I think this is very clearly part of the psychological impact of all of this. I’ve just stopped caring about how I look.
The other big one for me is denial. As I trudge forward (making plans and working towards the goal) I have shoved the reality of this situation to the very back of my brain. I was driving the other day and it suddenly occurred to me that none of this will ever be easy for me. That dream is officially gone. Being a mama will from here on out be a struggle I’ll have to work towards. It will always be a fight. There will not likely ever be a few months of “trying” the easy way followed by the joyous announcement that I’ve got two lines. It's just not going to happen that way.
That realization sucker punched me. I literally had to pull over because I felt like I couldn’t breathe.
How was it that I was so blindsided by something I clearly know? How was it that I allowed it to hit me so hard when I thought this was something I had dealt with?
I think it’s because I very rarely allow myself to think about the reality that is now the rest of my life. I don’t allow myself to focus on it, because it hurts too bad.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DUggK29BjwA
You can't have another piece of my soul
Another part of me
You take exactly what you want
Even when it's not mine to give you
And it's not yours to take away
You're stimulated
You're aggravated
I feel so obligated
But I'm not gonna let you make me run
Maybe I’m crazy to hear my battle with infertility in those lyrics, but it’s what I hear. It’s what I feel.
I refuse to let this continue to take parts of me. It has to stop.
It is time to stand in the truth.
My birthday is next weekend and I am going out with some of my favorite girls. I have a hair appointment (I hate to straighten my own hair, so whenever there is an event where I may want it straightened my lazy bum tries to schedule a cut around that same time so they will straighten it for me!), a cute outfit picked out, and every intention of putting some blush on my cheeks and flirting with some random man who has no idea what he’s in for.
I am going to try. I am going to allow myself to feel pretty and worth the effort.
As far as the denial, I’m honestly not sure what the best way to deal with that is. I don’t want to dwell on it. I don’t want to be so focused on the future that I forget to enjoy the present.
But I also don’t want to keep getting hit to the ground by bouts of reality. I don’t want to lie to myself and pretend like this isn’t something I will always have to face.
Infertility is huge. My endometriosis is huge. Both will be a struggle for the rest of my life.
And I don’t want to keep letting them take me out when I least expect it.
How do you face and deal with reality without giving over control?
How do you let it go when it will always be there?
ADSPACE
