||[Nov. 1st, 2015|08:47 pm]
I just want someone to talk to and I don't know who to talk to.|
My husband is out of town on business, and my kid skipped her nap today and fell asleep at 5:30ish (but the time changed today, so really 6:30ish). She fell asleep without eating dinner or brushing her teeth, but she was so sleepy, I arbitrarily decided that was the priority, which I guess is what parents are for?
I have been really depressed lately. Like not I'm-gonna-kill-myself depressed, just I-can't-stand-to-live-inside-my-head depressed. I don't want to talk to anyone because I feel like everything I say is stupid and the wrong thing to say. I don't feel motivated to get any work done, and then I feel guilty and useless and worthless for not getting anything done. I don't have much patience with my daughter, which also makes me feel guilty for snapping at her and for not being fun and warm and playful with her. Moreover, I feel guilty for not enjoying my time with her, since I have precious little of it -- she grows and changes so much every day.
I got a 10 on a grant application (R21) recently. That will probably go down as one of the biggest "wins" of my life. A 10 is a perfect score. R21s don't get percentile scores but on a different application, I got a 16, and it was in the top 2%. So I think it's fair to estimate that the 10 was in the top 1% of applications, and maybe even 0.1% or something crazy like that, depending on how many applications there were (I have no idea).
Anyway, the point is, this score was insane! And I am still waiting for the moment that I feel happy about it. I got the score a few weeks ago, and I acted happy, and I even walked out of my boss' office and pumped my fists in the air like I was in a movie. But I still haven't really felt happy about it. So I guess I am not feeling very normal.
Also, I have been skipping every song on my favorite Pandora station lately. It's like this dumb little thing that always stands out to me when it happens -- I know that I'm not feeling normal when I hate every song and nothing sounds good.
Why am I depressed. Well. The miscarriage. That is the main thing, I think. My baby died and got vacuumed out of me. I should have been in my third trimester now. I should have had a big pregnant belly instead of just my normal chubbiness. I should have a baby kicking and rolling inside me. And I don't, because my baby died and got vacuumed out of me. I get to say it twice, because I had to have the procedure done twice.
If I had known when I had the miscarriage that November would come and I would still not be pregnant, I think it would have been unbearable. The thing that got me through that time was believing that I would be pregnant again right away. In theory, I could have gotten pregnant 2 or 3 weeks after the miscarriage.
But 4 weeks after the first procedure, I had to have another one, because they didn't get it all (all of my baby's dead tissue) the first time. So I still wasn't pregnant. And 21 days after that -- right on schedule, according to all the studies I googled -- I ovulated again. And I still wasn't pregnant. But I hadn't had a period yet, so that was normal, right? I got my period, and I ovulated again, and I'm still not fucking pregnant. So my baby died in July, and it's November, and I'm still not fucking pregnant.
And I feel like I have no right to grieve it, because I have the most singularly wonderful daughter who has ever graced the planet Earth. Why should I be allowed to have two? And, it wasn't even a baby. It was an alien-shaped clump of tissue when it died.
But, by now, it would have been a baby. And instead, it's just biomedical waste.
Yeah ok so maybe I'm still pretty depressed about the miscarriage.
I am also really sad about a situation that happened with my friends earlier this month. It's a little complicated to describe. My friend N is getting married in December. She invited me to her bachelorette party. I knew everyone else at the party; most of us went to grad school together. It was a weekend-long party in La Jolla. I didn't have a great time. It was ok while I was there, but I had a few moments of feeling like N had misinterpreted some things I was saying, or just otherwise feeling like I was saying or doing the wrong thing. Like, at one point, I poured everyone another round of drinks, and one of the other girls trailed after me with a paper towel wiping up droplets of stuff that spilled. Like literally a drop here and there.
So, anyway, the final morning, I couldn't sleep despite barely sleeping all weekend, and I decided to come home early. The fridge was still packed full of food, and I figured most of it would just go to waste, so I packed up some stuff for N, and took the rest home. I thought I was doing everyone a favor, because there was so much shit to deal with, and a lot of other people had left already.
One of the party organizers texted me that night to ask if I had taken all the food home because I was mad about something. And even as I write that, I'm like: What? What kind of logic is that? What kind of person would steal a bunch of food to get back at their friends? Like...just what? I took the food because otherwise it would have gone in the trash. I thought I was being fucking helpful. And I know it was just one dumb text, but I kind of feel like it was the nail in the coffin on that friendship. It has always been a contentious friendship. Maybe this is just me stroking my own ego, but I think the girl who sent that text (S) is probably jealous that I am more successful than she is as a postdoc. Or, I don't know, maybe I'm a crazy person who steals food out of vengeance. (!?)
So those are the two major contributors -- the miscarriage, and that one text that I think means the final dissolution of that friendship.
Well, ok, maybe one more. I worry a lot about my marriage. A lot. A little over a month ago, my husband and I went out for a date night. It was not a great date. For the first part, I felt like he was judging me for not doing a better job making friends in LA. Not that he's made any friends since we moved to LA -- he just had a lot of friends here already. But later in the evening was the really bad part. He said that he'd like to have some paperwork drawn up to protect his business in the event that we divorced, since right now, I would get 50% by default.
He really got me where it hurts. I have felt like our marriage was so unfairly balanced because I do so much more parenting than he does, so much more housework, so much more of the joint stuff we are both responsible for. And I do it all partly because I just want to do it to make our partnership work, but also because I knew he had to work on the business. And it was like he was saying to me that all that work had been invisible to him, like I had done nothing for him and deserved no part of his business.
We talked it out and I came to understand that he just didn't want to lose 50% of it, not that he felt I contributed nothing, so maybe I overreacted. Maybe I also had a hard time because I had just recently gotten to the point where I stopped thinking of our marriage as a temporary thing that was sure to dissolve, or at least I had felt less like that, lately. And then since he brought that up, it seems like our marriage is sure to end, and it's just a question of when. Like he's evaluating the exact quantity of my contributions and trying to determine if it's sufficient to justify remaining married to me.
He has actually been doing a lot more of the household / baby stuff lately, and now every time he does something like cook dinner, instead of feeling grateful to him, the crazy party of me feels like he's trying to push me out of our marriage and justify leaving me. Why stay married to me if I contribute nothing to our marriage anyway, right? Sometimes I try to guess at his mental arithmetic and I wonder why he's married to me right now.
And then being so unhappy amplifies that. Why would he want to be married to someone who is so miserable to be around? Someone so sad, so insecure, so joyless, so irritable?
Last night, after taking our daughter trick-or-treating at my husband's grandma's, we drove back to our house. He tried to plug his phone into the charger in my car and pointed out that the charger was literally falling apart, like all the wires are exposed. It was something he'd commented on before and I think I had probably gotten kind of defensive about it. He brought it up, and then pointedly said, "You know, you could destroy 100 of these chargers, and I would buy you 100 more." Maybe I'm reading too much into it, but I felt like it was his way of saying, I love you, please stop being so defensive and insecure, everything is ok.
And I really want him to be right. I really want everything to be ok.