Don’t Feel Sorry for Me.

I started questioning myself yesterday after I shared my emotions about starting the IVF process again on social media. Am I sharing too much personal information with people I don’t know? Am I putting myself out there to be criticized? Then I remembered….I stopped caring what other people thought of me about 6 years ago. 

You see, I’ve been through quite a few tough times (I know I keep saying it, but it’s true). One of the most significantly traumatic times I’ve been through (yes, there are still others you don’t know about) was when I went through a really bad episode of my Grave’s Disease.  It was so bad that it affected the appearance of my eyes…it made them puffy, protrude out more and, to me, look so unbelievably unattractive.  People would sometimes stare at me or do a double take when they noticed my eyes. For months and months, there was nothing I could do about it. I just had to let it run its course.  Finally when it started affecting my eyesight, I was able to have surgery to make them look somewhat normal again, but I’ve never fully looked the way I used to (at least when I look in the mirror that’s the way I feel).

Going through something as traumatic as that affected me deeply. It affected my physical appearance and I had absolutely no control over it. I couldn’t hide from it unless I decided to never leave my house. I think it was at that time in my life when I learned that there’s no point in trying to hide my problems from the world, but instead embrace them and use them to make me better. 

Looking back at that time in my life, I now realize that’s when I learned the most about resilience. I hated the place I was in. Sometimes I struggled to look at myself in the mirror without crying. But you know what? I still got out of bed every morning, still faced having interactions with others, still went to work and still got together with friends. I remember so desperately wishing there someone else who was going through the same thing who I could relate to and find comfort from, but there wasn’t anyone….at least there was no one who was openly talking about it anyway. It was such a lonely feeling. So at some point along the way, that loneliness fueled a fire that was planted inside me. And it’s grown and burned more with each passing day. The burning inside me is a reminder that no matter what I am faced with, I will not let this problem overcome me and I will not hide from it.  And that’s carried with me to my journey with IVF.

The fact is that I have absolutely no control over most things in my life. (And I’m a control freak, so imagine how fun it is to battle that notion on a day-to-day basis.) The situation with my eyes was a testament to that.  But what I’ve learned is that I can control how I react to the situation I’m faced with. And more recently I’ve learned that I can create meaning out of my suffering. 

My absolute favorite quote in the world is “The meaning of life is to find your gift. The purpose of life is to give it away.” –Pablo Picasso. I’ve learned that the meaning behind my suffering is my ability to be vulnerable and open about my difficulties in life.  And my gift to give away is this blog.  This gift is for someone who might be looking in the mirror, wondering why (you name it) happened to them.  It’s for someone who feels depressed after she got results from another failed IVF cycle. It’s for someone who just lost their parent to cancer. It’s meant to say “Sister, I am with you. You are not alone. I’ve been there too.”  It’s my gift because I so desperately wished I had someone saying those same things to me 6 years ago.

I am always so humbled by the support and encouragement I receive when I put myself out there on social media or a blog post…it’s truly what fuels me to keep going so, thank you! But please don’t misunderstand the intent behind my vulnerability. Don’t feel sorry for me. The fire is still burning inside me.  Of course, IVF is another thing that has knocked me down, made me sad, left so many questions unanswered. And I do need support…I’m not above that at all. But by the time I have typed these words and put them out to you, the reality is that I’m already mostly okay. I’ve probably already processed what I am going through.  These words are my gift to a woman who is the midst of her trauma and frantically searching the Internet for someone else’s story she can relate to. And if you’re her….you found me.