Getting My Life Back

I have been buried deep in work and post-IVF indulgence. I tend to be fairly self-indulgent in times of crisis. Got an IVF cycle in two months time? Definitely have that coffee, those glasses of wine, that takeaway, that break from the exercise routine now, while I still can.

It sounds okay, but in reality it tends to prolong the sense of crisis when the crisis itself is actually over. If I am still swilling coffee and wine and not getting any exercise weeks after an IVF cycle, then it feels like I am still somehow stuck in that failed cycle. If I am still working extra hours when the peak of that high workload is over, then I am still stuck in the habits of a phase that I should be moving on from.

In rare, quiet moments I have had this thought in the back of my mind: "I want my life back. I want to be catching the bus to work again, instead of taking the car. I want to be eating well and not drinking too much. I want to be walking in the sun instead of holed up in an office. I want to spend time with my Dudes instead of working late."

So here I am, taking a couple of flex days off work and enjoying watching my boy ride around in the winter sunlight. I'm eating better food, not buying more wine and swiming and walking again. The Big Dude and I even had sex again, and it was good.

I feel good. I feel like I am getting my life back.

Frustration

Okay, I'm frustrated.

1. I just spent thousands of dollars on an IVF cycle that didn't work and now I'm told that I can't try again until July.

2. We are in the midst of a seemingly endless death march at work. As a part-timer, I am supposed to be working around 20 hours per week. I've actually worked that plus an additional 55 hours in the past three weeks. I'm supposed to be able to take time off in lieu when this happens, but of course we are still too busy. I'm also told that I can't be paid out. This week, I was just starting to get the sense that the pressure might be winding down and I might get my life back, when a colleague announced that she was taking two weeks holiday and dumped me with her work.

3. The Big Dude and I have scheduled three sex dates in the past two weeks and none of them have worked out.

I'm tired, I'm fed up and I'm very, very frustrated.

The Pain

As you have probably guessed, I have been quietly brooding about the failure of the IVF cycle and not feeling very talkative. But actually, an hour or so of real physical pain has helped put emotional pain in some perspective.

I went to the dentist this afternoon for the first time in (wait for it) 21 years. Yes, that's two decades of zero dental care, aside from brushing my teeth.

I have been quietly aware of the fact that I ought to go some time, but have always managed to put it off. I only went today because I feared I had chipped a tooth. The news, in fact, was good. The dentist seemed quite surprised (and mildly reproachful) that my teeth were actually okay with so little attention. All I needed was a tooth cleaning and a (completely different) wisdom tooth removed.

But now I know exactly why I put off going for so long. Crikey, the pain! I cursed and swore. And that was just paying the bill!