Here's a recipe for a time-bomb cake:
- 1 cup frustrated infertile wife
- 1 cup frustrated infertile husband
- 10 pound diabetic cat needing constant attention
- 5 cups idiotic insurance company making ridiculous decisions
- 2 cups idiotic HR department reps who are not helpful at all
- 1 cup donor-clinic never-ending paperwork bureaucracy
- 1 daily birth control pill
Heat oven to 100+ degree humid Texas heat. Pour all ingredients into a bowl and mix vigorously until tears and bloodcurdling screams start to form. Bake, and watch carefully for top to blow off which will inevitably happen. Frost with special birth control frosting to ensure absolute madness.
There's my attempt at trying to make light of where I am mentally.
I wish I had news on positive progress. But of course, I don't.
Each and every Monday morning I wake up hoping and praying I get good news in the upcoming week. Then without fail, the following Friday I end up in a cryfest to Kevin because nothing moved forward and I have found myself still waiting.
Lather, rinse, repeat.
The frustration builds with every passing day. This negativity is hanging around my head like an anvil. I'm sure I'm not pleasant to be around. I'm certainly not myself.
What do all of you do when you need an outlet to blow off the steam? Punching bag? Shooting targets?
Let's hear your suggestions.