I’ve come to a conclusion that I can’t say I favor, but I’m shocked that the obviousness of the possibility hadn’t struck me yet.

I don’t think I’m sick at all.

I don’t think I’ve been fighting anything for the last month that had left me nearly bed ridden, with no appetite, and struggling to care about everything/ anything around me.

And yet I’m sure that if I had looked at myself objectively I’d have noticed, just like I’m sure that many of you have likely noticed. I think I’m depressed, and not in the “oh, that’s ass, but I’ll feel better tomorrow” kind of way. I’ve always been a positive person and I think any chipper that has been coming out of me at times is mearly formed from habit. I haven’t felt happy in a long time (other than my odd rubber room style excitedness for a few days last month). I really have nothing to complain about logically, but logic isn’t living here right now. Without distraction I swing from gut stabbing sad to numb and a lot of anger thrown in for variety. Who me? angry? What a shock, no one noticed.

But I’ve realized that I seem to be hating life in a pretty hard way lately. I want another child so badly and the loss of my 2nd and 3rd are still so strong. The idea of not giving my son a sibling is killing me since I think that growing up and only child is horrible and has some very negative consequences and I want to prevent that any way possible, plus I know that my family isn’t complete as it is. So I keep trying to get pregnant. And that in itself seems to be bringing me lower every day.

I don’t want to have sex, I don’t want to ask my husband to have sex with me all the time. I make it look like I want to have sex to try and make my husband feel like a man, and I want to want to have sex. I wish I enjoyed sex, but the only thing I get out of it is the comfort of physical proximity to my husband, someone actually touching me other than my son. I’ve always been a very physically affectionate person and I feel starved for physical comfort nowadays. I don’t have my friends around to snuggle up to, hold my hands, hug me (and I’m known to being almost overwhelming in the amount of hugs I like), kiss my cheeks. And my husband and I are not very physical anymore. He doesn’t snuggle me, he gives me a little kiss when he comes home or leaves, or if I ask him for one while he’s at the computer. He doesn’t hug me anymore unless I ask him for one.

I’m almost willing to completely give up on the idea of having another child simply because I’m so tired of begging him to sleep with me and being turned down. Every time I’m leading up to ovulation he’s not feeling well and I hate saying “I’m going to ovulate soon” and that’s a really last-ditch effort if I do…and I always end up having to say it. And still often nothing happens.

I know my husband loves me, but I couldn’t tell you if he was in love with me, I just don’t know that. I know he likes me as a person, he obviously thinks I’m a good person and a good mother. But I don’t interest him. And sadly I’m pretty sure that it’s not only mentally (we’ve never had anything in common and I’m not exactly in league with the intelligent conversationalist of the world. I’m a simple girl with simple wants and that’s how I’ve always been. I don’t see it a negative thing for me) but also physically. I know he used to love having sex with me. There was a time when that was the case. But every time I have to essentially beg for sex that I don’t want to have because the last thing I feel is wanted, it just makes me more and more bitter. I’ve had the discussion with him about it, and he tried to put in more effort for a short time, but now we’re back to nothing.

I can’t sleep because I can’t relax. I finally realized that. I retreat further and further into my books in desperate need of distraction from my thoughts that are an unclear mess of anger and tears. Last night I managed 1.5 hrs in which I woke up 3 times. During this afternoon I brought my son to be with me and just held on to him while he slept. I dozed in and out of sleep for 2 hours and then my son left and there was just this cold empty spot where he’d been. It’s seemed like such a bad, cheesy picture of how I felt. Cold and empty. And it’s everything in my power right now to care enough to keep things from being really crappy for Monster just because of how I’m feeling, and I realized I’m not doing a great job of it.

I feel like trying to have a child has killed the parts of me that I liked.

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