This probably should be 2 posts, but, just like in my real life right now, I can’t seem to separate them.
I had a pleasant surprise this morning (OK, afternoon, I slept in) as I opened the kitchen window blinds while waiting on the coffee to brew: Surprise flowers. Being in a drought, about the only things in my yard still alive and thriving at this point are the weeds and the apple tree. And even the apple tree is struggling, dropping her apples already. The grass, what little there is, is dry as straw, and the remains of the blackberry vines and canna stalks are crispy and brown.
So I was happy to see these in bloom.
This is Lycoris squamigera, commonly called naked lady, magic lily and resurrection lily. There are actually 2 stems of these that have popped up in this bed, but I selected this picture to show what is behind the flowers. The day that I hung my homemade prayer flags that I blogged about in Making Up with the Universe, I also got out my typewriter and wrote a little note to that bitch Infertility and buried it in that red flower pot. (I wanted to bury it in the ground, but it is just so dry here.) I covered up that ugliness that I am trying to let go of with some decor, including a butterfly on a stake, and set the pot under my apple tree, below the prayer flags. And this is where my surprise flowers decided to make their appearance. So, OK, Universe, this lovely message is not lost on me. Thank you.
Today is a good day for the surprise flowers, too, ’cause I have to admit I was feeling a little bit sorry for myself yesterday. It’s weird, the things that can be disconcerting, when you’re going along having a nice day. In a joking conversation yesterday with a friend about him never buying me a beer, I was reminded by my friend that said beer had been previously provided to me on a couple of occasions, one of which was at a party a few years ago. I’d brought only one beer to this party for me to drink. Long after I’d finished that beer, we were still hanging out with our friends, and I was wishing for another one. So he gave me one. Maybe it was two. Whatever. That’s not the point. The point is, this made me think, why did I only bring one beer to this party? Ah yes, because we were TTC, and I was trying to be “good” during the 2WW even though I knew the cycle was likely a bust anyway. I guess the fact that this was ages ago and I was TTC then and still haven’t now, the passage of all this time bummed me out.
I think quitting assisted reproduction is like quitting smoking for me. I’m reminded all the time, little memories, things I see. When I quit smoking there were the little things that reminded me of how sucky it was to not be smoking. The after-dinner cigarette. The cigarette while driving. The smoking while drinking. Remembering something you did with a friend and recalling you were smoking back then. Now that so much time has passed since I smoked, none of that really bothers me anymore. The only time I ever feel a little twinge of wanting to smoke is when someone lights up near me. That split second of the initial flame-to-tobacco burning smell. I suppose that with time memories of TTC won’t bother me as much too. But right now, pregnancy announcements, or someone’s new ART attempt, kinda sting. Cause I’m not in that game anymore. And on purpose, I realize I took myself out of the game. But that doesn’t change how it feels. A long ago memory during TTC just reminds me of how much time has really passed. Good change, bad changes, life goes on, yes, but the time, realizing it has been so long and that I can’t get any of it back or slow time down, well it just sucks.
Similar to walking away from most anything, no matter how good it is for you to do so, physically or mentally — such as smoking, drinking, a relationship, or whatever vice or struggle or “favorite sins” you want to use as an example here — quitting ART is hard because you feel these twinges and you start thinking, maybe just one more wouldn’t hurt. This time it might work, or it might turn out better. One more try, but I can still quit whenever I want… It’s a slippery slope.