27. Unravelling

I’m not sure what to say. It’s been a very rough month for me, and unfortunately it doesn’t seem to be letting up. Equilibrium is an incredibly fragile thing, and it’s amazing how easily our lives and balance can be disrupted. Miscarrying started a chain reaction in my life, which had been going along steady and strong, and now feels incredibly fragile. I am struggling with intense general anxiety. I feel as though all the gossamer threads that were working in unison to anchor my life have begun unraveling. If I look straight ahead and keep marching, I can hold it together, but I’m conscious of not looking left or right. Just moving. If I stop, the unraveling will catch up, the demons will close in. Rationally I realize that if I stop and look the demons square in the eye, cast a light on them, they will appear pathetic and impotent in comparison to my fears. I am a rational person; I understand what’s going on, I even know how to stop it; but my irrational side has gained the advantage and I am paralyzed.


I feel like I am writing the confessions of a mad person. I feel guilty, like this is way more than any of you want to know about me. All month I have been giving myself permission not to come to w2k. For some reason I have fixated on this group and this meeting as an emotional obstacle looming larger than life. Even this morning, in a spell of emotional spinning, I gave myself permission to withdraw. I don’t want attention. I just want to feel normal, but I feel so fragile and vulnerable that I’m afraid it’s impossible to come and not draw attention to myself.


I’ve been in this space before, only I didn’t know what it was then. I thought my knowledge and the tremendous growth I’ve done these past two years would protect me from ever returning here. Now I am considering taking medication for my anxiety. My doctor told me it’s not a good idea to be on anti-anxiety medication and pregnant, so a decision to take medication means a decision not to get pregnant. That decision alone brings up tremendous anxiety. Right now I feel too fragile to even consider signing up for the possible roller coaster that being pregnant might bring. Even repeating the five weeks of waiting to find out if everything is okay feels like too much. And if it weren’t okay, I would want to be stronger than I am now, in a safer place, able to handle the disappointment. Miscarrying is what set me spinning and I am still trying to staunch the wound before all my confidence evaporates. The feelings that miscarrying stirred up have multiplied at an accelerating speed and crept into every area of my life. I feel angry and get easily pissed at people—not an emotion or experience I’m comfortable with. I feel fragile and vulnerable. I doubt my work.


It’s been helpful to read Chrissy and Catherine’s check-ins in particular and to be reminded that life is cyclical and our experiences universal.