You boys may not want to read this one

A long time ago, VERY pre-Mr. Blogger, I was in a pretty crap relationship with a guy who treated me like utter dirt (let's call him Jerk Face, shall we?). It had started out well, as it so often does, and I fell head over heels. But by the six month mark, he suddenly decided to change personalities on me and I got to the point where I couldn't tell up from down. I was literally a woman possessed.

That's what kills me about men...they love to talk about how "the chick just went totally psycho" on them, but they so often forget about their own responsibility in getting us there. Jerk Face drove me to such a point of complete confusion and paranoia that, yeah, I was a tad bit psycho at times. (I shouldn't admit that I had (and USED) the code to check his pager messages...BUT HE SHOULDN'T HAVE HAD GIRLS PAGING HIM IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT.)

So after we went to Vegas on my birthday weekend, and he threatened to "throw (my) fat ass off the balcony", we decided that something had to change.

But god forbid he let us break up, 'cause that might mean I'd find someone else. He was no idiot...I had given him a car and a credit card, so there was no ending THAT gravy train.

He asked instead, for the dreaded "break"...as in "we were on a..." a la Ross and Rachel. But I got him to agree to therapy to hash out his anger issues, so I thought it was a fair trade.

I set up the appointments with my therapist, and she eventually had us come in together. After lots of MY money and many semi-silent sessions due to his inability to communicate, I couldn't take it anymore. But I still loved him and he said he loved me, so what was I to do. I had tried singing along to lots of Alanis Morissette in the privacy of my vehicle, but that only got me so far.

I talked it over with the therapist at one of my solo sessions and told her that it just HIT me. I had to LET GO. Not of him, per se, but of all my anger and frustration and hurt and loss. He wasn't going to change and I knew that at SOME point I would finally find the courage to break it off. But in the meantime, I could no longer afford to be the tightly-wound, neurotic and emotional mess I had become.

Mr. Face freaked. You could literally feel his frustration at not being able to get me all riled up. I could not be bothered.

THEN, he started to like it. And like me again. And things were good...up until the part where he started cheating on me with a 17-year-old he met at the gym. Yeah, that kind of sealed it.

Since you know me, and you know how I do enjoy making my very long-winded and circuitous points...I'm here today to tell you that once again, I need to LET GO. And I may need your help doing so. This baby-making thing just about sent me over the edge last night, and I can't afford to spend every day in the same kind of tears and frustration ol' Jerky used to induce.

This stupid progesterone they have me on is supposed to help (as I've discussed before), but would you like to know the cruel joke it also plays on your body/mind? It gives you ALL THE SAME SYMPTOMS of pregnancy. Including a late period. (And if any of you ladies say TMI, GET OVER IT.)

When I was on it a couple months ago, I had no idea of this particular evil, and wouldn't you know...my boobs were killing me, I was tired all the time, I had cramping and I hadn't had a period in 45 DAYS. Can you see where perhaps I may have thought I was pregnant???

But after seven home pregnancy tests and one at the doctor proved negative, you can imagine the dashed hopes and pain of it all. I went off of it after that 'cause I just couldn't take it any more. Quite literally.

But when we started up with the whole "trying-in-earnest" thing again this month, I figured, ok, well, now I know. The doc said to take it from ovulation to period. But my cycles, being the screwed up mess they now are, make it very difficult to determine when exactly I'm ovulating. I kinda felt like I was a couple weeks ago, and that seemed to be just about the correct timing, so I started up on the joyous mess yet again.

What I DIDN'T know, and stumbled upon last night while Googling "side effects of progesterone suppositories", is this:

If you take it too early, you may cause your body to not ovulate at all. In other words, it can act as birth control.

Let's read that again, shall we? Yeah, it's even more ironic the second time.

I may have just prevented myself from getting pregnant. NO ONE TOLD ME OF THIS FACT.

I LOST IT.

The ranting and raving was only slightly less out of control than the time my then-fiancee told me his 300 pound white mother and African American step-dad thought he shouldn't marry me because I was fat. And Mexican. And we'd therefore have "mixed-race" children (fiancee being the whitest of the white and me practically being a Chola Girl and all...PLEASE). I also wasn't even fat back then...but I digress...oh, and we got married anyway...

So after flying into said rage, I cried and cried and carried on about how I had fucked up AGAIN, albeit through no fault of my own, but a fuck-up nonetheless. I was NEVER going to have a baby.

Then I looked over at the dozen roses Mr. Blogger had brought home to me yesterday. And I smiled. (Those are the actual roses up above by the way.)

Once again, I thought, this pain and frustration isn't getting me ANYWHERE. It isn't helping me, MB, or any possible baby...and to the contrary, it could really hurt us all instead. The whole "LET GO" idea is going to have to be my new mantra.

I'll just have to breathe, and calm down, and try again. And again. And as long as it takes.

In the meantime though, YOU BETTER BELIEVE my doctor is going to get a stern talking to. Hey, I may be trying to let go, but that doesn't let her off the hook.