I spent all day yesterday arguing with myself, growing increasingly disheartened as the day wore on. Then, in the evening there was blood. Distinctively not the same brown spotting that’s been plaguing me, but legitimate bright red blood. Not enough to call it a period, quite, but a not-insignificant amount. So I moped and I got myself all sanitarily situated for overnight, prepared for today to be CD1. No more testing. That foolish twinkling hope – I let it all go.
No color whatsoever, not even the annoying brown. Instead, just the continued bloated feeling… lower back pain… stiffness in my hips… extreme fatigue. And the boobs. My boobs haven’t yet given up the fight. They keep insisting, quite strongly, that something is going on. For me, nipple sensitivity and breast heaviness are not usually associated with my period. Never noticed it while I was on the pill… I checked some of my old blog posts and the only time I seem to have written about them bothering me was that mysterious, anxiety-riddled cycle last April that prompted me to start this blog in the first place. But it was one of the most prominent early signs in December…
UGH I just want this part to be over. I hate this part.
How about the sage wisdom of the Scrubs episode I happened to catch the end of yesterday evening? “You’ve got to trust that what’s supposed to happen will happen.” *
*Ok, this does imply some type of higher power, none of which I particularly believe in. So “supposed to” in any grand fate-type sense is pretty nonsensical for me when I start to analyze it. Still it’s not a bad mantra as far as today goes.