When I was in middle school, everyday in gym class consisted of having to participate in some sport I absolutely hated. I have never had athletic ability, much less talent, so everyday in gym class the mean girls would patronize me. I was the last one picked. I was the one laughed at. It was humiliating.
And then one day, after an especially self deflating game of volleyball in gym class, I asked my mom to buy me a volleyball, which she did, and I started to practice at home by myself everyday. We didn't have a net but I would stand at the back of our driveway and practice spiking and volleying off the garage and the side of our house. As much as I hated playing volleyball in gym class, as embarrassed as I was by my performance, when I was alone and slapping that ball around, something inside me started to release. With every slap of that ball a little more frustration and anxiety moved from my insides, out through my hand. That ball was the head of every mean girl in that class that made me feel so inferior.
Last week when I got my BFN I went to the gym immediately after work and pounded out my frustration and anxiety on the treadmill. Every time my foot landed on the treadmill I imagined myself squashing the pain I felt. You better believe it felt good! But I didn't do that today. Instead I surrendered to the pain. And I'm learning from that mistake.
My period started on its own which definitely felt like a small victory since I hadn't had one in over a year. So I went in all ready to take on the 2nd cycle. I brought my positive attitude and a smile on my face. But the u/s showed I have a cyst on my left ovary, the good one, so it was over before it began. Cysts are apparently a common occurrence with gonadotropin injections. And my RE said they're really not a big deal; it should go away on its own, but until then it's a time out. And it's seriously frustrating.
I didn't sleep much over the w/e, probably from too much caffeine, and I woke up exhausted today. The exhaustion manifested into what was a horrible headache by the end of the day. I put myself to bed at 5:30. My last fleeting thought as I drifted off was how badly I just wanted to stay in that state until I could wake up to no more cysts, no more infertility, no more waiting for the inevitable, ultimate let down; just to wake up after one long, all to real nightmare. Well I'm awake now and the reality has been taunting me like the mean girls in gym class.
Isn't it funny how so much can change yet stay the same? Sixteen years later and I still feel that inferiority and insecurity like I did when I was 14, (my hormones are still raging too). I still have a nemesis, although now it just doesn't have a face. And I still have it in me to fight that nemesis. Even though I never was the gym class hero, at some point, after all those afternoons with my volleyball on our driveway, I got better. Practice didn't make perfect but it made better. I stopped being so afraid of the ball. I started hitting it back. And the mean girls weren't so mean anymore.
So as I sit here feeling sorry for myself, just the way I felt all those years ago, I can see myself standing in our driveway, staring down at that volleyball, throwing it up in the air, striking it with the heel of my hand. And sending it flying.