Day 28 - patiently waiting

So it was D-day yesterday, well first scan day, anyway. It all didn't start to well with a train cancellation and a mildly stressful drive to the clinic. I'd prepared myself for whatever outcome. I was perfectly aware that we'd started with a low dose of hormone, so as not to overstimulate me dangerously. As it was we'd barely stimulated me at all. But that's ok, there's no rush. We've upped the dose now and I'll have another scan on Monday. I thought I took it just fine, calmly and realistically - until I talked to someone in the evening who'd just lost his 22-year old daughter, never really having known her. Ah, daughters you may never know and the broken-heartedness that brings.

I'd managed to distract myself very successfully by having a drinks date with a potential dom on the night before the scan and a beautiful evening with my lover the night before. Unfortunately, both ended up shooting me in the foot somewhat - emotionally anyway. My lover really wants to see me next week and I very much want to see her and drink from that crazy happy state. However next week could be extraordinarily difficult for me. I don't know what it is I'll be needing in advance. I don't want to hurt her, especially as she's not used to being with a polyamorous lover, but I also don't want to hurt me or stress me more than I'll be able to handle. Delicately honest communication was the best I could do - the best anyone can ever do. I hope it was  enough.

With the dom - oh gosh, where do I start? It was fun and I really got very enthusiastic on the night, but I had some underlying uneasy feeling. It might be a bit to do with the boundary-pushing nature of the things he was proposing, but more with a lack of warmth I was feeling. I'm not good at saying "no" to people, especially if I've been very enthusiastic with them. More difficult communication! We've since talked about the affection question (sigh, he's also not used to playing with a poly) and maybe we just need to talk some more in person. Two difficult conversations and one disappointing scan - all a little too much for yesterday.

Not so crazy after all - the cycle of grief

Psychology is everywhere now, we are all busy throwing around a lot of psycho-babble (as my husband would say), but often when it comes to our own stuff we're a bit blind. As I was writing yesterday, I couldn't help see the parallel between my strange poker attachment and someone hanging on to a dead person's things. This brought to my mind a model called the "cycle of grief". It was developed by Elizabeth Kuebler-Ross from her work with dying people and their relatives. Since then, we've understood that it is actually much more widely applicable to situations of loss and change. I'm not going to write and essay on it here, but it suffices to say that in her model grief comes in different stages: denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance. It's pretty widely known these days - hell, it even featured in one of Grey's Anatomy's little verbal preambles. It is also a somewhat contested model in that we are all unique and we are not going to fit neatly into those stages like a programmed automaton. One of the things that many people going through grief will tell you about is the "rollercoaster" experience of flipping through different emotional states, at times going round and round and round. If all goes well, each agonising cycle may bring you a little closer to that place of acceptance.

Crazy behaviour

Have you ever watched yourself do things and thought "I can see what you're doing, but this looks a little crazy to me", whilst at the same time feeling compelled to carry on? I guess you must have, most of us must do at some point. So why do we carry on? Surely we could stop if we really wanted to. Yes, I think we always have that choice. I also think we don't because carrying on feels like the only thing that makes life bearable at that moment.

So what am I doing that's so crazy? I'm getting into Poker. Ah, gambling addiction, you may think! Actually no, I'm not even playing for real money.