Pain Leads to the Dark Side

Emily shared an article with me, which was entitled “My Failed IVF Cycle Felt Like a Pregnancy Loss”. She’s been reading a whole lot on the topic since yesterday, when we received the unfortunate news. It goes without saying that the past 12+ hours is a painful cocktail of emotions for the both of us, which is the true purpose of me, writing this.

I won’t even try to justify any of my views here as it comes from a very deep and dark place, not some politically correct news editing room.

As expected, Emily is sad at the outcome. Dr. Surinder appeared perplexed. We did everything right, and we also took additional precautions on top of that. On paper we were in the best of conditions, save a slightly thinner lining than preferred (6.6mm vs 7.0mm). We don’t understand where we failed. The Good Doctor suggested perhaps there was something wrong with the fertilized egg, and hence the body naturally rejects it. If this was the case, then maybe we should be thankful.

In any case, I’ve been made to understand that even in the best of cases, pregnancy chances are about 70% - 80%. High enough, but as some say in tabletop war gaming: “All rolls fail on 1”.

                            

Rock Bottom, Coming Right Up

I don't know how to get myself out of this mess.

The longer this is taking, the worse I am feeling. Car repairs and car insurance payments have sucked me clean and dry. I'm not at rock bottom yet, but I can see it taunting me, not too far off.

I'm doing so many things wrong these days. I don't even know where to begin. I'm clearly not as good as I thought I was. I trusted someone I shouldn't have, and now I'm paying the price. Expensive price at that too.

I'm getting so desperate now. I have this terrible feeling that all things good in life has deserted me. I'm writing this post in the faint hope that putting it out may have a calming effect on me. I'm all out of ideas and inspiration. I feel like crying but something in me doesn't give up that easily. I don't know how long I can hold up.

Down in the Dumps

I've stopped updating this post since 2011, but even that is overstating. I probably stopped earlier than this.

I'm writing again after so long because I hope that by expressing myself with my written musings, this may, in whatever small way, be therapeutic for me in these trying times. It's helpful to know also that no one will be reading this post or this blog. No one has been doing so for years I believe. Time to clear off some cobwebs.

I'm clinically depressed. A wreck. A mess. It's only been about 2 weeks but I feel like exploding. It's not going right at all. It's like you want to cry, but Generic Male Standards of Behavior dictates otherwise. So instead of bawling like a sissy boy, I instead look out to immerse myself in emotional circumstances, such as, sad movies, getting angry at random things and heartwarming short videos on YouTube. Today, I was a Nando's, Paradigm Mall, with a couple of friends. We ordered, the drinks came soon enough. We waited for the food. Didn't come. I was calm. Eventually we shook the awkwardness of asking the pretty waitress with strange ear-piercings about our dinner, and another waiter, what appears to be a Hobbit of some sort, responded by giving us the wrong order. I questioned Frodo about the order and he immediately checked the order in some computer terminal just next to our table. Frodo then confirmed our order, which was apparently wrong from the beginning.

That's when I flipped.

I repeated my order firmly once, and then twice. He seemed more confused than trying to calm down an irate customer. I stormed out of there, refusing to pay for anything. On a separate note, Pasta Zanmai in Paradigm has excellent service.

The evening didn't end all that badly. However, this emotional outburst is merely the tip of a terrible iceberg. I've been cooping up this feeling of inadequacy for a while now. My morale is at an all time low. I know some people around me are trying the bestest to cheer me up. It's not working, through no fault of theirs.

To make matters worse, I am ashamed of expressing my true feelings in all this. I'm ashamed that my friends and close loved ones may think any less of me. Objectively I know they probably won't think so, but you try telling THAT to my sub-conscious self.

I may not kill myself as that would be over-dramatizing what some people may call a trivial situation. But I also can't speak to my closest friends as, I am, as mentioned above, ashamed. I feel trapped. Unlike Admiral Akbar, I did not see this coming. I'm not sure how I'm getting out of this one.

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Appreciation

Appreciation.

I find this a most strange word - so often the cause of much resentment, animosity and uncertainty, even though the word itself connotes a positive reaction towards a positive action.

In my personal experience, I’ve so often felt under-appreciated. Whether by a loved one, a lover, a friend or a boss. I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve been in severe arguments as a result of this issue. The frequency of this matter arising has also led me to question my own disposition. I can safely surmise that the feeling of lack of appreciation may be the result of:-

a) My own incompetence or inability to do anything worth appreciation; OR

b) My consistent contact with individuals who lack appreciation for anything in general. 

Sometimes I wish to believe that I am right. Moreso when engaged in heated argument. I tend to get defensive, as virtually all of us do, and that does not help me at all.

Sometimes, I stop to think – maybe the other person has some point in all this, and I am in fact, merely blowing my own horn (so to speak), and unjustifiably so at that.

Answers? I wish I had them. Res ipsa loquitor then. Let the facts speak for themselves.

The Green Green Grass Of Home

Dear Diary,

The state of my employment is relatively shite. However, more than just the issue of job security and salary, another obstacle obstructs my path to a different future: I am very, very aware that I have many freedoms in this job. More so that it has made me terribly lazy. Nevertheless, I stay on because this freedom has allowed me to pursue my dreams of dancing, photography and traveling, among others.

The million-dollar question now is: Do I continue staying? No, I’m not talking about staying here for the next 20 years. I’m talking about resigning almost immediately, as opposed to resigning at the end of the year.

Quoting the legendary (at the time, but now more than slightly coockoo) Axel Rose of Guns 'N Roses in their iconic hard-rock tune - "Where do we go? Where do we go now?"

I'm still trying to figure out where this is all going, with not too much success I admit. Is this a sign that I can't handle things of this manner?

Should I stay on when my boss has agreed to grant me that promotion WITHOUT any increase in salary (not even a 2-figure increase)?

I think I'm going to have to start praying again.

Amen.

More Proof that Proton is Evil

This is further proof that our National Car Maker is secretly an evil entity bent on natiowide domination and exploitation.