If you met me in person you’d think I was funny and possibly a bit silly. Ok, actually when people first meet they think I am a bit serious and cold which they might even interpret as being rude, but as I warm to people and get to know them and figure out how best to interact with them, their beliefs, their humour, then they think I’m a ball of fun. The persona I display is jolly, happy-go-lucky with just a touch of “fuck you I’m Teflon baby” for the haters in the crowd. Growing up, my family talked in humour, seriously we quoted punchlines to explain situations to people. (If you’re thinking “Darmok and Jalad at Tanagra” that’s pretty close.) My mother also had a very clear opinion on bad moods, I could go have that in my room, or somewhere else, but either way it was mine to deal with and I could only come back and be around people if I was in a good mood, or at least displayed one. Swallowing my emotions was the norm because we wouldn’t want things to get messy and emotions are messy. This emotional training or perhaps stunting makes me fun at parties, but it also means that I struggle to express myself, especially when I am sad and honestly right now, I am sad. I am sad in my bones. I am sad for several reasons, but let’s just focus on 2019 and 2020 and I’m not even going to mention COVID.
My 2019 was cancer…cancer diagnosis, cancer surgery, cancer treatment and all that goes with that including, but not limited to hair loss, fatigue, pain, cognitive deficits, memory issues, balance issues, in my case the complete loss of any possibility of having a child, and fear, lots and lots of fear.
In 2020, in chronological order, I was overlooked for a promotion, my cat died, my brother died, my brother’s cat died, my mother’s best friend died, and my mother is in a lot of pain and waits for yet another surgery.
Through it all I’ve been sad, and I’ve muddled along. I am a privileged, white female and I have a home and I have friends and I just adopted two kittens and I’m taking workshops on adoption and I have a safe, union job, and I try to remind myself of all the positives in my life, but the loss and grief I am experiencing is suffocating. Add to that that my mother is my last surviving relative and she will be 80 this year and is not in the best of health and sooner rather than later I will have no family and it all gets to be a bit much. Worse still is that I have worked hard to feel “normal” and celebrate bodies of all sizes and shapes and yet when sad and stressed my knee jerk reaction is to think “if only I could lose weight then xyz would be perfect” or at least better and then there is the even more cruel “there is no point of me existing since I have fucked up this life because I am too weak/useless/stupid to lose the weight and therefore of course I didn’t get that promotion that I worked hard for, of course the person of my dreams never came along and swept me off my feet, and of course no one I wanted, wanted to have children with me”.
This week I was feeling particularly down and frustrating even myself in a “why can’t you just get your shit together” way and then my therapist ended our session by telling me that she is pregnant and due in March.
I want to be happy for her, I want to be happy for anyone who is happy and living their best life, but instead it was a gut punch, and the tears came hot and fast and I just wanted to slam my computer shut and run away. I was heartbroken and sad and the person I talk to when I am heartbroken and sad is the very person who is adding to my hurt. For the record some part of me is happy for her, she is living the life I wanted, and I don’t wish to take that away from her, I don’t wish her any ill will, but right now I am unbelievably sad and I don’t know what to do with it. I’m not angry with her, I’ve tried to be, I wondered why she didn’t tell me sooner, I wondered if she had lied to me when I mentioned previously that I assumed at some point she would have another child and that I was bracing myself because her last pregnancy had upset me and that was before cancer. I wanted to be mad at her because being mad is easier than being sad. I can fuss and flutter and scream and shout and throw my arms in the air and say “how dare she!” and “can you believe?”, but I’m not mad. Her joyful news caused me pangs of physical pain and tears and all the hurt that I keep deep inside came rushing to the surface like a shaken tin of pop and I couldn’t avoid feeling it and I had to sit in it and feel additional pain for not being able to share her joy and celebrate her news and sincerely congratulate her.
I’ll get this under control, I’ll tamp down the hurt, I’ll smile and laugh, and no one will be the wiser, but what I really want is to not have to swallow it down, to not have to put on a mask of happy-go-lucky, to not fall back into my negative thoughts about weight and body image that seem to inevitably get tangled up in my emotions. I just want to be happy in my own right. My therapist would remind me that this is a “both-and” situation. I can be sad about my infertility and happy for someone else at the same time. I can love and adore my future adopted children and mourn the children I didn’t have. She’s right…I just need to work on seeing it for myself.
– The Goddess
The Goddess Weighs In 
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