Warning: girl talk. Sorry. I'll understand if you skip this one.
Freaking shark week. Freaking female body. You are a plague upon my house. I'm really glad that I was able to birth the two most awesome children on the face of the planet, but my relationship with my uterus has been hate-hate from about age 13.
I have so much to do but I'm sure I'm suffering from a serious lack of iron and I have zero energy. I won't go into the grody, but yesterday and today were a lot like this again and that was no walk in the park. Things are bad in Lady Town. And my problem is that really horrible girl time reminds me of my miscarriage... and that just adds another layer to the whole thing that I'm not really in the mood to handle. Last night I had an incident that brought that experience right back into the forefront of my mind.
Tonight I just feel crummy. Not your average complainy-crummy, but really bad. I feel like I can't move because it would be too much work. I got a normal amount of sleep and it took all I could muster to get through my day. Waking up to deal with mother nature in the middle of the night didn't help, but this is more powerful than I could have slept more. It feels like I just have to wait it out. I can barely force myself to lay in bed and make a packing list tonight. I just feel miserable and sick. I feel like I've spent the last two days completely on edge and barely able to concentrate because I'm so nervous I might have an "issue" at work... and you might remember, I can't just up and head for a restroom when I've got a class full of ninth graders... and I work at least a good two minute walk from any restroom anyway. That two minutes can feel like twenty when my body decides to rebel. I feel like a 13 year old who doesn't know how to handle her cycle yet. How am I 32 and still unsure if I can get through a day at school without incident? God, that's stupid.
Part of what bothers me about all the hysterical uterine shenanigans is that it feels like Mother Nature's way of reminding me that I'm getting older, that at least one part of me has already served its purpose, and that there's a ticking clock of family history that may or may not decide to sound the alarm anytime soon and screw up my whole deal. There's not much I can do about it now--though I know I should check in with my doc about it again--but the emotional component of it is just... complicated.
God damn body.