It’s a beautiful Sunday and last night I went to bed in a horrible mood and did not wake up much better. Had to tell B. I needed to be alone for most of the day. I can’t be around him right now, which happens, every now and then, and really he’s done nothing. I just…last night it felt hard. I was talking about how I’d been snappy with some of the kids at work, and he said something about not just at work, and it really fucking got to me. All of me feels so outside of my control. I’m hungry and then I’m full and then I’m nauseous. I’m sleeping and then restless. Moody and, apparently, snappy.
I thought I was going to be so happy to be pregnant. I thought I was going to radiate joy and light and so far it’s been mostly hard. There’s joy there: I feel like I have to keep explaining this to the future child who could somehow read this, but I think this might need to be my space to write any thing I want. Be as selfish as I want.
It’s also really easy to be super self-centered right now. There’s a way in which nothing seems as interesting as the science project of my body. I find myself giving away very personal information without even thinking about it. Last night I was explaining to my friend’s husband how my period cycles normally worked, and mentioning that I didn’t want an internal sonogram. Pretty sure that’s more detail than he ever needed. I wonder if I’m legitimately becoming a crazy person. Suddenly the day alone doesn’t seem like such an amazing idea. Although also…maybe I don’t need to be inflicting myself on anyone for a few more hours.
I want these posts to exist out there—some flecks in the internet sea—because I can’t imagine I’m the only woman who’s ever felt and thought these things. It would be a comfort to me to stumble onto this.
Time to get out in the world though. I don’t need to interact, but this house just got too quiet.