Thoughts on Karma


When I was younger, I had a friend who was in the process of going through a divorce and thought her husband was seeing another woman. I asked her how she was coping, and she proclaimed that she would be okay and that he would get his on Judgement Day. I remember being shocked that that sort of mentality kept her passive and submissive – he eventually came back to her (after she had weight loss surgery) and they are together still.

I think karma sounds benign enough when someone cuts you off and you think that they are going to get pulled over three blocks down, or when you give your spare change to the coffee can for March of Dimes at the cash register. But it’s really not a nice thing.

I went over to my ex-husband’s house on Friday to pick up something he had borrowed from me. I haven’t been alone with him since I first left him, so he had always been polite and normal. He has a weird sense of humor, but it was nothing inappropriate. We have a lot of mutual friends, and it got really awkward for me when I wasn’t “friends” with him in social media and because he had never done anything overtly horrible, I just sucked it up. It’s not like I share that much on FB anyway. Maybe he just wanted to stalk whoever I was dating at the time. I don’t really know. In any case, he knows about my husband’s illness.

So I listened for an hour and half as he updated me on the craziness in his life – he has become the surrogate father of a drug addict’s baby and they recently broke up again, complete with appearances from cops, violence, and a requested Amber Alert. And I forgot to mention the creepy sexual stories he told me, but I don’t think this blog is the place for that. And after he told me all about this, he asked me about DH. And so I told him that things were okay for now, but that we think his autonomic nervous system is failing. I didn’t go into too many details, but I did mention the most recent one: the fact that he is having trouble eating.

And then he said it.

Now before I tell you what he said, I need to insert a little background information. Year ago, when we were married, he had a double hernia operation. Even before he had the surgery, we had a tumultuous relationship. I was deeply unhappy. He was not a nice person to be around. He yelled, screamed, belittled me, and always had to be the center of attention. He said that I was rude and selfish and always had a knack of turning any concern that I had about him into a negative quality about me. This just got worse when he had his surgery. It just magnified the kind of person that he was. I’m sure that I wasn’t the best, either. I was stuck taking care of this old man who I was not meeting my needs. I took him to meet my family and I found that I was embarrassed by him. It was everything: his age, his weight, his overbearing personality, how he treated me in front of people. how he treated my parents – just everything.

So i dealt with him the same way I deal with everything – I put my feelings down on paper. I never had any intention of him reading my journal – it was my diary! I had written in it for years, so it’s not like he didn’t know what it was. One day, he found my ranting about him. I’m sure it was over the top. When you aren’t allowed to express yourself, you voraciously unload when given the opportunity. So while all of my complaints were most assuredly justified, I’m sure that my word choice was particularly cruel. I think at one point I said that I found him disgusting. It wasn’t just his recovery that upset me – it was his helplessness. Even when DH was in the ICU paralyzed, he wasn’t as helpless as R. DH never expected me to do anything for him – he appreciated everything I did and never took me for granted. R? Not so much. He wanted an employee to boss around, not a wife.

We got into a fight one day, and I left. I usually always left after a fight because he would follow me around the house, goading me and baiting me further. So usually I would get in my car, drive to Walgreens parking lot, and cry. Not really mature, but it’s what I did.

While I was gone, he read my diary. He was horrified that I wrote those mean things. (Note: I did go through all of my old things looking for that diary, but I can’t find it anywhere. He may still have it. He is the kind of person that would keep that sort of thing). When I got back home, he demanded an apology. From me. He didn’t think he did anything wrong – he claimed that he read my diary because I left it on the bed (doubt it) and that he thought I left it there for him. Uh, whatever.

So, with all that in mind, he asked me about my husband. I told him. And then he kinda laughed and asked if he could tell me something kinda mean. Uh, okay, I guess. I mean, I figured that a 50 year old man can determine whether or not something is appropriate to say out loud. So then he said, “You remember when I had my surgery and you wrote those nasty, horrible, mean things about me? Well, I think it’s karma that this happened to your DH.”

Karma? KARMA? How about it’s karma that your druggie “friend” cuckolded you into taking care of her and her kid for the past two years and now she’s left? How about it wasn’t your illness that disgusted me, it was YOU?

Karma? So you you think that’s why I had a sick daughter, too?

As weird and uncomfortable as last Friday was, I’m so glad it happened as a reminder to me that you are not a nice person, regardless of what you present to people. There’s a part of me that thinks you pursued this girl because no one is going to believe her – she’s a crazy druggie. You are an upstanding citizen (at least you play one on Facebook) who is generous and selfless and all that crap. Whatever.



My Reaction to Fertility Meds


Gonal-f: Nasty tasting. I know it’s an injection, but I can taste it. Yuck.
Menopur: This stings by itself. If mixed with Gonal-f, it doesn’t sting as bad. The more I took, the stingier it got.
Omnitrope: Easy to take, a pain in the ass to mix.
Lupron: Gives me headaches.
Cetrotide: Easy.
Ovidrel: Easy.
Bravelle: I have no recollection of my reaction to this shot.

Clomid: Tastes nasty and gave me hot flashes.

PTSD Freakout?


I know I’ve mentioned that I’ve self-diagnosed with ptsd, and while I had been doing better, I had a small episode today.

DH has not been feeling well lately. He came home early last night and stayed home from work today. Around 1:30 or 2, I go in to check on him and touch his leg to gently wake him up.

There was no movement from him. None. And he’s a light sleeper.

I touched him again and noticed his leg was cold. I couldn’t hear him breathing.
And I lost it. I panicked and shook him pretty hard and he finally gasped and confirmed that he was alive.

I sobbed “Don’t do that to me again!” and started bawling.

I’m sure that’s just the way he wanted to wake up.

I think the reaction was triggered by a combination of bad news, hormones, and worry about DH.


Hide All From…


I’m still on Facebook. Stupidly. I can’t quit it – too many people use it to organize things and I’m too nosy, so I just deal. Most of the conservatives are hidden so it’s become a pretty cozy little place lately. Except sharing links… I have some friends who share all sorts of stuff from Scary Mommy, Mommies-R-Us, MOMS ARE THE BEST, I’M A BREEDER, and other ridiculous groups. I want to still see stuff from my friends, but I just don’t want to see all those posts that remind me that I’m not a mother. So I hide the groups. This is what I see when I try to block a group –

You will no longer see posts from ANNOYING MOMMY GROUPĀ  in News Feed. Undo?
Why don’t you want to see this?
An opportunity for me to snark about infertility? Yes please! However, I’m sorely disappointed with the lack of responses that Facebook gives me:
  • Why don’t you want to see this photo?
  • It’s annoying or not interesting
  • I’m in this photo and I don’t like it
  • I think it shouldn’t be on Facebook
  • It’s spam
That’s it? Really? There should at least be an “Other” category. I don’t care if anyone reads the reason I’m blocking this group, but at least it’s cathartic for me.
Though I really think that there should be the following reasons to block some thing on Facebook:
  • Why don’t you want to see this photo?
  • I’m infertile and this reminds me of my failures
  • I’m tired of being reminded of just how much my friend loves her child(ren). I get it already. Stop bragging.
  • Shouldn’t you be watching your kids instead of posting memes on Facebook?
  • Quit trying to pretend that you’re Mother of the Year. I know what you did last weekend.
  • I know your kid – they aren’t all that smart or beautiful or kind.
  • STFU
Or maybe I should just stick to “It’s annoying or not interesting“?




So it’s been a weird few days. Yesterday rocked my little community – if you pay attention to the news, you might have heard or read aboutĀ  the guy in Texas who went on a killing spree and murdered his ex wife’s family – 2 adults and 4 kids. The only survivor is a 15 year old girl who is in the hospital. That’s my area. I live right next to both of those subdivisions. Have friends and students in both of them. If you haven’t heard about it, it’s really, really horrific. I had lunch today with a friend who taught 2 or 3 of the kids and knows the family pretty well. At times like this, I just feel so… useless. What can I do? What can I say? Nothing.

I remember I was pregnant when the Sandy Hooks shooting happened, and I cried and cried, wondering if I’d ever be able to protect my daughter from tragedies like that, wondering how I would explain events like that to a child, and wondering if I’d ever have to face such horrific news myself.

On Facebook, there is a cartoon making the rounds about Calvin (from Calvin and Hobbes) on his deathbed. Most people posted saying that it made them cry, but I read it and felt nothing. No tears. No nothing. People who know me in real life know that I cry at the drop of a hat, but I couldn’t get into this. There was nothing tragic about this. It was an old man who lived a good, long life. He had kids and grandkids. He gave his grandson a special toy. Sweet. A little sad at times. But did it make me cry? No.

I don’t think it’s because I’m a bad ass. I think it was because I was feeling sorry for myself and all I could feel was my own grief. Then yesterday happened and jolted me out of my bubble.

I’m still processing a lot of this. I’m also tired and hormonal (anyone want to take a guess when AF is going to show up?), so let’s see if tomorrow brings me some clarity.

Know what this is?



This, my friends, is thousands of dollars of failure. This is a bag of my left over sodium chloride, the mixing agent for my Menopur.

Today is the day I decided to donate our leftover medical supplies. Between me and DH, we could start a black market pharmacy.

Today, I am reclaiming my dining room.
I’m hoping that I can reclaim the nursery the week of Thanksgiving. It’s still too much to walk in there and realize that after seven years, it will never be used for the purpose we initially assigned it.

If I had known children weren’t going to be in the picture, I never would have moved out here to the suburbs. We would have probably saved up to buy a house (condo?) in the loop. This way, though, we have our bedroom, a guest room,  his craftroom,  and my craftroom. I don’t have to share!

I’m just a little sick to my stomach. So much for trying to be positive. I think I’ll go take an anxiety pill…



Why do people “like” sad Facebook statuses? I’ve seen people specifically request “no likes” when announcing a death in the family. I wish I had done that when announcing our loss.

I understand trying to show love and support, and if you don’t want to leave a long comment, you can always leave a simple comment such as “Hugs” or “<3".

Sometimes I'll like things that I relate too, especially here on WordPress. But I have a hard time liking death announcements.