I’m gathering my strength (and clothing) for what is bound to be an emotionally challenging weekend. Odd juxtaposition of feelings to compare the last time I packed for a long weekend back in NY. It was restorative last time, this time it’s bound to be rife with pressure point squeezing. If everyone has a tell for when they’re hiding an emotion, mine is squeezing the space between my thumb and forefinger. It was taught to me long ago as a headache pressure point, but somehow I learned along the way that if I caught it quick enough it could prevent me from starting to cry. I’ve used it countless times in work meetings because *lucky me* I start to cry when I’m frustrated. I have sometimes squeezed that pressure point so much that I stop being able to feel my thumb. I don’t know if it’s just a distraction or if there’s anything to it, but it works…provided I don’t talk. If I talk, game over. Wobbly voice leads to watering eyes and my lip is hip-hip-hip-ing and snot pouring out of me as my face uncontrollably wrenches up into an ugly cry. So I quietly nod, shake my head, or shrug while I stare at the floor and squeeze for dear life. That is of course until someone is cruel enough to ask the worst possible question: a tie between “what’s wrong” and “are you ok”. FFS, what makes you think I want to answer that right here and now? I am doing anything and everything in my power to crunch everything I am into as small a space as possible and not make a peep because I don’t know if it’s worse to lose my shit or run for cover.
Now that I’ve gotten far off topic, I am just finding the weekend’s plans to be super challenging. I haven’t been to a baby shower since my first IVF. If it wasn’t a friend so dear we had to invent a term 8 years ago to describe our friendship (non sexual life partner or NSLP), I wouldn’t be going. I know that sounds really petty and bitter, like I can’t be happy for a pregnant person, but it’s hours of cooing over pint-sized presents and baby bumps… And this wasn’t how we planned any of this! We were supposed to be pregnant together. I found out she was pregnant the day she did and I was doing shots for IVF. She’d be due in January and I’d be due in March and that was the hold up. We were supposed to do this together. And now, because I love her more than probably even myself, I have to confront all of that in a huge group setting.
I’m going to be needing a new thumb.