
It's just weird sometimes... I bleed, it can make me feel very unwell; it's just about being a woman, a female. But it's all so pointless. A constant reminder of the continuous measure of my infertility, and a more painful and prolonged than the average reminder, each month. Oh of course sometimes I'm in full acceptance of it...this is what it is, how it is. But some times I get caught out....maybe an extra pain, an unexpected pouring and I can feel quite desolate or angry or hopeless. Then there will be the menopause to look forward to.
Is it any good speaking the anger? Is there too much confessional therapy one can do? Sometimes it brings others with similar experience, with something to share. I don't know, I really don't know. There is some stuff I've written it feels like it needs to be said but to who? Perhaps I'll think about it then come back and make a link to it...
I think of all the snow and frost and how it makes me feel more me, how it feels right, how I can feel happy in it. Red & white... none of it makes sense, but maybe that's ok. Life is a paradox anyway, isn't it?
