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Okay, ready to talk now, I think
Mar. 21st, 2010 03:10 pmSo, I just outright deleted my other journal entry. But the sentiment still holds true. How can you miss something you never had?
I've had a chat with someone who's more or less been in the situation I found myself in this morning, and it's help a little. Not much, but a little. I'm drained. I'm exhausted. I'm annoyed, pissed off, hurt; I feel fucking gypped.
Some of y'all have heard, and even perpetuated, the joke that Ryan and I are Chandler and Monica, but just a few years behind. Well, now I'm sort of wishing I hadn't made those jokes. It's a Funny Aneurysm is what it fucking is. Only a million times worse, because I am not a character on a sitcom.
But to cut to the chase, I found out today that having children is not something that's ever likely to happen with Ryan and me. Apparently, he's a carrier for a genetic disorder, wherein the child is born with their skull already fused together. It also has a whole separate set of complications, but yeah. I can't find much about it online, but most of his cousins have it, and apparently he has some of the milder symptoms, but none of the severe ones.
Knowing this, it sort of explains a lot about his behaviour recently. I'm... nowhere near close to coping, but whatever.
And because I refuse to look at any situation with a negative perspective, here's the rather desperate, clutching-at-straws silver lining:
There's no need to ever worry about getting out of apartment living, or even out of our itty bitty studio, and I can continue to have my collection of swords and other sharp and/or dangerous weapons on display. I like my swords and guns and stuff, and I like my tiny apartment, and I like having my collectables out where they can be appreciated, and not worry about them getting damaged.
Horribly petty and materialistic silver lining, but it's something.
I've had a chat with someone who's more or less been in the situation I found myself in this morning, and it's help a little. Not much, but a little. I'm drained. I'm exhausted. I'm annoyed, pissed off, hurt; I feel fucking gypped.
Some of y'all have heard, and even perpetuated, the joke that Ryan and I are Chandler and Monica, but just a few years behind. Well, now I'm sort of wishing I hadn't made those jokes. It's a Funny Aneurysm is what it fucking is. Only a million times worse, because I am not a character on a sitcom.
But to cut to the chase, I found out today that having children is not something that's ever likely to happen with Ryan and me. Apparently, he's a carrier for a genetic disorder, wherein the child is born with their skull already fused together. It also has a whole separate set of complications, but yeah. I can't find much about it online, but most of his cousins have it, and apparently he has some of the milder symptoms, but none of the severe ones.
Knowing this, it sort of explains a lot about his behaviour recently. I'm... nowhere near close to coping, but whatever.
And because I refuse to look at any situation with a negative perspective, here's the rather desperate, clutching-at-straws silver lining:
There's no need to ever worry about getting out of apartment living, or even out of our itty bitty studio, and I can continue to have my collection of swords and other sharp and/or dangerous weapons on display. I like my swords and guns and stuff, and I like my tiny apartment, and I like having my collectables out where they can be appreciated, and not worry about them getting damaged.
Horribly petty and materialistic silver lining, but it's something.
