Talking about 'the thing' you do not want to talk about...
They say sharing is caring right? So here goes....
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I have to be fully honest, I didn’t really want to write this post.
I’ve always kept two areas of my life really private; sex and relationships. For the latter, it’s because being in a relationship is a sacred and private bond for me, and I love keeping that just between me and my partner, and it’s also to respect their privacy - just because somebody is dating a writer, doesn’t mean they’ve signed up for their lives to be spoken about. As for the former, can you imagine if my Indian Parents read about how I’ve been on the kink scene since I was 18. LOL. Hard no. (Parents if you accidentally read this, then I’m joking LOL. Kink is a form of um, tennis?)
Instead of writing about ‘the thing I don’t want to write about,’ I’ve spent days trying to work out a pithy and clever topic for this week’s column. I came up with the list below…
What is International Women’s Day and why do we need it? I figured that I could deep dive into IWD and I would pose some sort of commentary about it. But I vetoed this because I felt like Chat GPT could write it for me and also, I’m all for a global day for awareness of women’s rights - there’s not much else to say.
Pop tarts are great - I’ve just rediscovered them, so I am now essentially eating dessert for breakfast every day. But then I realised nobody cares, and I probably couldn't get more than 50 words out of this topic anyway.
Married At First Sight Australia - I have so many thoughts I actually don’t know where to begin. So until we’re further in the season, I’ll keep them to myself.
But I'm digressing again, and purposefully avoiding what I should really be talking about, which is freezing my eggs. I’ve been avoiding this because it does feel very personal, and I’m in the middle of the process so I haven’t got the gift of being able to reflect upon the experience as a whole. But it did dawn on me that the reason I’m shooting the above blanks, is because this is all-consuming right now - and that’s exactly why I should write about it.
As an update, the first collection I had last week wasn’t very fruitful, despite having plenty of happy oeufs (so I was told.) I'm now doing another round immediately, and honestly, I just fear the same disappointing result again, and again which feels deeply unfair for what you have to endure throughout the process.
For those who haven’t experienced it, that entails the weeks of hormone prep and almost-daily trips to the clinic for vaginal scans feel never-ending and invasive. Depending on the clinician you get, they’re either careful or shove this perspex probe into you and wield it around your nethers like it’s a bloody joystick. The actual injections themselves are tricky to administer, but you do get quite blasé about injecting yourself in the stomach several times a day. But I wasn't prepared for the low moods, month-long extreme PMT, painful stomach cramps, emotional outbursts and exhaustion that comes along with it. And that’s before you’re sedated to have the eggs extracted by a surgeon with a giant needle and then sent home to recuperate in agony.
People have been well meaning when they cheer you on during the process, in a sort of “well done you for taking control of what you can” kinda way, but in truth as a single person, it feels like yet another thing to do on your own, up there with paying your bills, making sure you don’t die alone in your flat (I think about this way too much) and spider catching (up the hoover, zero fucks given.) Everything rests on your shoulders, an invisible pressure that friends who are a ‘we’ so easily forget. I’ve even found myself jealous of the couples in the waiting room at the fertility clinic - though their journey is so tough too - at least they’re huddled together for it.
I genuinely thought the hard bit was getting down to the weight limit, which has been a source of conflict for me (read more about that here) and finding the extortionate amount of cash needed to do it, which I also recognise is a privilege. But it turns out, there was much more doom to come, namely that all of the negativity that I’ve tried so hard to keep out of my mind has decided to group together and plan a sneak attack. And even though in more rational times I know it’s better to be alone than with the wrong person, I'd be lying if I said that part of me has started to think that maybe I should have just picked somebody and ‘settled’.
I keep pondering, what would life be like with the gorgeous ‘I just want a simple life’ ex who seemed to find so much about me intimidating that I started to dress down around him? Or maybe the one who maintained that he wanted somebody smart and independent, but married the exact opposite. Or the one I still adore but just can’t seem to make enough space for me in his life. The searing loneliness of this process isn’t helped by so many friends being pregnant and having kids, including the ex who said he didn’t want kids and now has a baby with somebody younger.
But on the flip side of this wistfulness, I’m angry at myself for enduring all of the above and wasting my own time. I’m also angry at my own Indian culture for not allowing me to feel worthy unless I was top of the class - and I never was. I’m angry about the missed ADHD and dyslexia diagnosis that leads so many neurodivergent people to have deep-rooted feelings of low self worth because we’re trying to exist in world’s built for neurotypical brains. I’m furious and sad that the beauty standards of my early life imprinted so deeply that I spent most of my life thinking thin and white was the only way to be attractive making me think nobody would ever want to date me and for how hard the journey has and continues to be to push past that to see my own beauty and value. And, also very fed up of the men I’ve dated who seem happy to waste your time without that same pressure of a ticking clock.
None of these are particularly cute thoughts. I don’t want to steep in them, and let them become my go-to reaction or armour. Either way, it’s been hard to talk about because I do feel like dogshit physically and mentally, but perhaps the antidote is the love of your chosen family (animals, pals, Real Housewives) and keeping hold of any hope you can muster.
Much eggy love….
I had my first born at 40, after 3 or so years of trying (emotional journey). Speaking to others, people would always casually mention that I should freeze my eggs. And i was always so you actually understand what that means? They don’t I suspect. Thanks for opening up about it. Women’s bodies and the depth of our experiences are too easily negated to simple procedures and solutions.
Anita, you’ve laid yourself bare and the fragility of you is completely exposed. Brave to voice this and send into the public domain. There is too, a strength energy behind it, may be it’s the anger. Better to get that down and out because it damages us inside when we carry it. We alter our cell formation, hormone production and general receptivity by hosting anger, sadness, regret. So forward now, vital steps taken towards your future vision. Arms around you.❤️