It’s hard to tell if I have a case of the “Mondays” or what. I’ve never been one for the 40 hour work week. The entire process is aptly named rat race for a reason. Step 1, find rats. The rats don’t have to be willing, they just have to be hungry and have little to no other choice for food. Step 2, place rats in an overly elaborate maze. Promise the rats they will be rewarded with the food they need to continue living, you have to give them some incentive or else why would they bother with the hassle of the maze? Step 3, wait for the rats to find the cheese. There is a perfect amount of cheese for each rat, but let’s face it, rats are selfish. The first rat to make it is going to feel he deserves the most cheese because he is the best. That rat stuffs his cheeks until the remaining rats get there. By the end, the last rat in gets little to no cheese and is told “better luck next week!” He goes home to his rat family a broken man. Work for money that you have no time to enjoy. It’s all a scam.
I don’t think I was designed to follow rules. Most rules exist for the lowest common denominator. We need speed limits because if 1 person can’t handle speeding, we all shouldn’t be able to. I need to take an hour lunch “because I said so”. So much bureaucracy, it sickens me. I need money, plain and simple. I’ve never had a job where I was genuinely excited to go to work every day. I don’t know if it’s because my personality will find flaws in every job I take, or if I just haven’t found that “perfect career” yet. As for my current job, I make it very clear to anyone outside the workplace that A) I hate my job because it’s boring and some of the tasks are way above my skill level, which leaves me confused and constantly lost, which directly contributes to feeling frustrated and angry. B) I’m only here for the money. I need money for my treatment. The odds of finding another job that pays this much at this skill level with this much freedom to leave for doctor’s appointments is slim and none. You would think that would lead to me treasuring my job and doing everything I can to work more hours and make more money. Funny how it isn’t like that at all. See the rat race above.
This fertility struggle is draining me, plain and simple. It’s draining every ounce of concentration, my income, and my ability to feel. I just can’t care anymore. I’m devoid of feelings that don’t directly relate to getting pregnant. And what kind of feelings are connected to getting pregnant? Unbelievable frustration, soul crushing sadness, loneliness, isolation, self loathing, and worst of all, not feeling like a human being. I feel like an animal. A science project. I feel like I’m watching my future slowly get destroyed by a time bandit.
Arguably the one thing even brainless creatures can do is reproduce. Some would say it’s our one and only purpose. Something that comes pre-programmed inside of all of us. We have a biological drive to breathe, eat, seek shelter, release waste, and reproduce. Imagine a wild animal’s frustration if you take food away from it. Leave it in a cage with a juicy steak on the other side of the bars while it slowly starves to death, all the while the one thing that could take away it’s pain is just inches away. It would go crazy. It would try to gnaw the bars off. It would try to eat it’s own feet. It would yowl in frustration. It’s being denied it’s basic, biological drive to eat.
Having a child is a biological need that is hitting it’s peak in my brain. It’s not a joke. My live has devolved into a constant struggle for sanity between my primitive and cognitive brain. My keep trying to reason with my primitive desires with logic and intelligence, but you can’t reason away millions of years of evolution. Every month like clock work, around ovulation, my brain goes into what I call “mate mode”. For some reason nearly every man I see triggers a reaction in my primitive brain. PB pings my cognitive brain.
PB “Hey CB, there’s a guy. You know what that guy has? Huh? Do you?…DO YOU? He has DNA. Valuable genetic material. You should try and get some of that from him. You need to go make babies right now”
CB Sigh “Yes PB, that is a male. Yes he has genetic material that is valuable to propagating our species. No, I do not desire him, please stop.”
CB “We’re working on it with our real mate, remember him? He’s filled with genetic material too you know.”
PB “Oh yeah, that’s right! We already have a mate. Well why the hell aren’t you ripe with child yet?”
CB “It’s not that easy, PB. We’re working on it.”
PB “Alright, well until then I’m going to activate myself whenever a potentially handsome man appears in front of your eyes K?
I can’t turn it off. It’s that primitive desire to reproduce that keeps cropping up. It has nothing to do with love, sex, or anything. It’s literally all about DNA. A quick browse of the internet seems to show that most women have similar reactions that excite them around ovulation time. Finally, when the heat of heat passes, both parts of my brain start to be friends again and go into computer mode. Constantly running checks and adjusting my emotions accordingly. I guess that explains why I feel so robotic 90% of the time.
Prompt Ping 1: Objective – Pregnancy – Met (Y/N)?
Prompt Ping 2: Objective – Pregnancy -Met (N)
Command Prompt 1: Set – Human – Stasis – Hold
Command Prompt 2: Objective – Survive – Minimal
Command Prompt 2: Objective – Avoid – Mental stress – Maximum
Command Prompt 2: Objective – Pregnancy – Maximum
Command Prompt 3: Set – Check Objective – 1D – Repeating
I feel like I’m in a holding pattern. Pregnant? No? Ok well bide your time until you can try again. And biding my time means survive – minimum. My brain is placing little in my command to survive. It wants me to do nothing more than eat, sleep, and use the bathroom. Going to work, doing anything that adds mental stress, just aggravates this command, and makes me feel terrible. Understandably so. Even in the baseline of this holding pattern I’m set to feel terrible unless the objective of pregnancy is met. Adding terrible feelings on top of terrible feelings just leads to a crash. There’s simply no place left to hold those feelings. It leads to a natural desire to seek pleasure, not in a sexual way. Little things that help empty the cache of overflowing mental stress. Days off. Meeting with friends. Hanging out with my husband. Picking. All things that my brain will allow me to do because it offsets the mental stress that is constantly building up. I don’t want to do anything that involves making me feel worse than I already do. Seems like I might be clinically depressed. Oh well. I do a good enough job hiding it when I’m doing something fun. Those moments of fun are few and far between.
I used to think I was going to get pregnant, give the middle finger to my job, and high tail to to Florida where I could live happily ever after amongst the family I actually enjoy. Now I’m not so sure. I know in my heart that if I stay here my husband will continue to climb the ranks at his job, and provide a bountiful life for me. In the 4 years he’s been at his company he has almost doubled his income and won us a vacation, all by being an outstanding employee who downplays his achievements as nothing more than “just doing my job”. We could afford a nicer house in the country and I wouldn’t have to work full time, or at all. There’s pluses and minuses on both sides. Go to family that can help us raise our child in a warm family environment that we wouldn’t get here, but take a pay cut and probably start at the bottom again, or stay here, be assured the money is probably going to keep going up, and have a nice house. I don’t know if we can afford a nice house in Florida, at least not for a few years. I guess I’d be happy either way. I just don’t want to keep working at this job and live in my current house for much longer. I want to have a child and spend my time raising it and enjoying every moment. There’s plenty of time for a career and money grabs later in life. Lord knows my generation is going to have to work well into their 70s. They’re only a child for so long, it’s not worth missing when you’re going through all this just to experience it.
I guess my ultimate plan is to have a child first and foremost, the rest of my life will just have to conform around it, for better or for worse. Because until I have a child, I’m stuck in a holding pattern. Can’t move. Can’t leave my job. Can’t do anything but survive, acquire income, and keep on trying. A baby, a pregnancy is my key to finally getting everything I’ve ever wanted. And it’s so close yet so far away.