It began in June. I felt it. I felt anxiety creeping in as I continuously worried about everything and anything and anyone. I felt myself loose hope once again of ever conceiving; because how can a body so riddled with worry ever have anything left to be able to carry a baby? I felt the tears of feeling lonely or depression hit me for no real reason. It began in June – this time of the year when I start to feel down. Depressed. Hopeless. As my birthday, and another year gone, “wasted” rapidly approaches..
This time two years ago was the lowest I’ve ever felt about my birthday. Ironically the big 3-0, although coming at me fast, didn’t, in May [when I started writing this blog(!)], feel yet quite as scary as I would have expected. Even now – 1 month to go – whilst willing time to slow and not exactly looking forward to it, I still feel calmer than I did two years ago. I hate getting older, and I especially hate doing it without children, but this year – somehow – feels much, much better than two years ago.
Two years ago I was ill. Seriously ill. I was terrified of my birthday approaching. I kept it quiet. I deleted myself off the team birthday calendar. I wanted no attention or fuss. I couldn’t look at people. I was anxious. I was scared. I was constantly hurting myself; even as simple as biting on my finger until I was forced not to, or drew blood. I wanted to kill myself. I couldn’t get another year older.
Two years ago I was told this “mood” I was in was seriously affecting and bringing down the entire team – a team that I had supposedly brought together with my “sparkly personality” (how on earth were they surviving before me?!) – a team though, which managed – despite me being the supposed glue – to simply ignore how ill I was.

Two years ago I wanted to kill myself.
I had no real concrete plans. Mostly only silly words that would come to mind about “driving off a cliff” or “slitting my wrists”… later on I became convinced that if I had access to a gun I would have done it that way.
It is bleak; to have to fight these thoughts. When underneath you know you are a happy, smiley person with a zest for life. When you know life is too short as it is and you just want to live it to the max and make the most of it. But within your own head is another voice telling you you no longer want to live, that you can’t live.
This year I welcome July with a little more excitement than usual. Today we go ahead with our first ever IUI procedure, having been cancelled last time due to hyper-stimulation [blog here: https://myblog010887.wordpress.com/2017/05/09/iui-cancelled/%5D. I am excited for the hope that comes with this; although struggling to find positivity for a BFP test in 2ish weeks..! Whilst hanging around waiting between appointments for the procedure I get to see my gorgeous goddaughter and her mother for the third time this week, my godson and his father (same family) for the second time this week. Spending time with friends makes me super happy. This evening, “grub club” with the girls visits another local restaurant for scrummy food {although, having been flat out asleep by the time James came to bed at 21:30 last night, I’m not sure how alert I’ll be girls!! Pre-going out so needed!!} Most weekends this month have some kind of plans or other – plans I know that I won’t – can’t – cancel no matter how much my mind betrays me and feels like I don’t want to attend them as the time draws nearer. I noticed recently that I seem to do that – fill my life with plans – because I can’t cancel – I will never cancel on anyone unless I am physically unable (🤢!!). I don’t say no and I don’t cancel on anyone no matter how anxious I might become. I think it means I can’t lock myself away from the world, thus making myself feel mentally worse.
July two years ago – you sucked. July last year – I barely remember 😕. July now… you know what you gotta do ☺️



2 thoughts on “July

  1. I remember desperately not wanting to be 21. I was at a rather unhappy stage of life but time marches on and here I am, considerably older than 21 and much happier than I deserve to be. Filling your life with plans seems eminently sensible to me. It’s all too easy to hide away indoors and it’s to your credit that you don’t do that.

    I hope all goes well for you and that your dreams are realised.

    Janice x


    1. That’s interesting to hear.. 21 is the age I always pretend I am!! I’d be happy to go back there… ideally I’d like to start all over again but hey ho!!
      Yes, I guess it is sensible… that will be the zest for life part of me I guess! The anxiety part must hate the zest for life part – like the angel and devil on my shoulders 😂
      Of course you deserve to be happy!! Xx


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