speaking up

Words play a huge part in my life. I take painstaking measures to use the correct word in the proper way to describe something…especially when it comes to my feelings. I’m sure I’m a nightmare to talk to because I struggle to commit to certain words and how I feel about them all.the.time. I was at a doctor’s appointment over the weekend doing to some updates to my paperwork. You would have thought it was a pop quiz because I was having so much trouble deciding which boxes to check. They really cover everything imaginable which isn’t anything to but I debated with myself on what was worth mentioning and what was just in my head.

Some of my need for extra effort comes from being in the healthcare field and the other part is because- it’s me. I hovered over each question and role played what I thought would be the outcome of checking “said” box. I knew the questions that would follow. It might cause concern and will definitely lead to conversations I’m not ready to have.

It’s all part of that delusion that if I speak the words, have a real conversation about them, then the problem suddenly exist in the universe. Having inner monologues or brush off’s with friends is just chitter-chatter… Talking to my doctor and acknowledging my concerns leads to a diagnosis which is as official as it gets.

I don’t want real words with real meaning attached to them. The “i” word. The “d” word. The “w” word. Lots and lots of words and the additional complex on top of each. They must of seen my hesitation and the linger marks by a few I didn’t’ dare mark. I felt foolish and was fighting back tears the whole time. Luckily I was able to grab a Kleenex before they came in because I knew whether or not I wanted to we were going to talk about everything. (Which is why my doctor is so awesome, he knows me and knows I need the push.)

First things first, they brought up depression. I responded with “That’s a big word, maybe discouraged or frustrated would be something I’m more comfortable with.”  I know there are several kinds of depression and not all are long term but I can’t handle the thought of something else being wrong with me.

The next topic was my weight. Something is happening with it and it really scares me. My body has a plan of its own and I know something isn’t right. How rapidly it’s happening, where it’s happening, the reasons it shouldn’t be happening are all concerning. It’s never fun to talk about weight, unless you’re losing it, but throw in the added medical concerns and it’s a nightmare.

The whole appointment was leading up to the biggest, saddest word of them all: infertility. We’ve talked about it for some time now but never uttered the words. I think I’ve only said it maybe 3x in the last few years and the words hung on my tongue and I found myself thinking on them for hours afterword.

Though I was physically and emotionally exhausted after the visit I feel surprisingly hopeful. It’s suppressed joy... but now that my problems are “real” we have a new game plan and now can enter into a new phase in this journey.