Back in the day, when I was blissfully unaware that bad things can happen to good people, I wandered throughout life with rose-colored glasses.
Yep, long ago I really was Miss Suzy Sunshine.
The nice thing about living that way is that life (generally) seems to be just full of excitement and wonder, and pressure? almost minimal or non-existent. Failures were just momentary bumps in the road. The idea “there’s always a next time” really seemed plausible and in fact, there always was a “next time” right around the corner.
And, with just the right amount of drive and stick-to-it-tiveness, anything was achievable.
Scratch that.
I got old.
There’s something about entering your 40’s that slams the brakes on all of that sunshine. And it has nothing to do with life changing or even the people around us… it has everything to do with the change in ourselves.
Infertility gave me a reason to be bitter, and well, I just took it and ran. Instead of looking at the goodness in my life, all I could see was…
nothing.
Those damn rose-colored glasses turned to grey, and a shitty shade of grey at that. At times, it dimmed e-v-e-r-y-t-h-i-n-g. I was damn-near blind.
Suddenly, in my blindness, I became the self-appointed purveyor of fairness. I was insulted that life dealt me a bad hand, and there was (is?) no remedy for that. If you are a family of 4+ you were a target of my jealousy. If you were a family of 4+ and had the nerve to complain about ANYTHING going on in your life you were a target of my anger. If you took pity on my story and made an ass-backwards remark to me in public to belittle what I experienced or felt? well…
let’s just say I prayed the karma police would catch you before I did.
And then I decided one day that I just couldn’t carry the anger around anymore. I grew tired of putting myself in a box and labeling it “BREAKABLE: Please Don’t Touch.” Every day I get a little better. Let’s face it, I’ll never go back to the person I once was, but I will develop into a different and better version of me. Eventually.
It’s been more than a year since my failed donor egg cycle. When I think back to the feelings of failure then, it saddens me. It DID feel like the world was tipping over. It DID feel like I was never, ever going to heal. I DID feel like a desperate junkie, and when the treatments ended… hell, I felt like I would end too.
But I didn’t.
And I am still here.
And I’ve given up my karma police badge. I’ve come to terms that good and bad happens every day to everyone. It’s not about me being singled out.
I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again… this journey gave me a gift I would never ever return…
Compassion.
And here I thought I got nothing…
guess I need to get a new pair of glasses.
Signed,
Miss Suzy Partly Cloudy Sunny
BagMomma 
I subscribe to your blog and I have it in my reader, but it just NOW showed up in my reader…how strange. Pardon me for the late comment.Your words gave me chills and brought tears to my eyes. I sort of felt that way after my mom died. Not comparing the two, but just saying that the feelings you were feeling are some of what I was feeling too. Compassion is a priceless gift, even though the road you traveled to get it sucks. I wish for your heart to smile and heal soon.*HUGS*
Amazing post. Thank you.(stopping by from the roundup)
such a great post. i was delightfully naive to the real bad stuff in the world for many years…until I went through some crap before infertility, and I had thought THAT was the worst thing someone could have to fight through…turned out I was wrong. I have learned that everyone feels things differently, and everyone takes something different out of good AND bad experiences. Me…I'm one of the lucky ones. I'm on the road to be that family of four. But damn if there wasnt a time I was so wrapped up in my hurt and anger and sadness…and I don't know if I would have been as strong and honest as you if my outcome had been different (does this make sense?) I think I might have held onto the hurt and anger until I imploded. Again, I am lucky to not have to find out. I am really seeing the changes in your perspective through your posts as time goes on…you're amazing, M (S). I mean that.
This is just a beautiful post.Unlike you, I've never been an optimistic person. I just didn't know how to be. Infertility didn't help that, but it did put me in contact with people who genuinely knew how to do it (and I include you in that list – I know that you don't believe it, but it's true) and now I see that it can be done. I can have hope that things – whatever those things are – will get better. So, thank you and I don't think you need any glasses. 🙂