Ok, so I have a friend, right

and I love her! LOVE. HER. She is the friend that makes sure that I remember to be silly and fun and spontaneous. She's the one that gets me giggling to the point of nearly peeing my pants. She's the one that is just like the friend my mom has had since high school that now, at 60, still makes her almost pee HER pants.

There is nothing I wouldn't do for my friend and she knows it. She allows me to give it to her straight up when I think she's off her rocker. She's also the one that I will validate until I'm blue in the face if she's in the right. With her I can be completely honest and completely myself. I never have to fake it with her. I can be the real me with all my greatness and all my faults. And she loves me still.

But I'm nervous because she's asked me to lunch on Thursday to talk about her IVF treatment that she quickly mentioned on the phone to me today might not be going all that well. She found out a couple of months back that the company that is carrying her COBRA coverage is now based in Massachusetts which qualifies her for full IF coverage in accordance with Mass law. So, she gets the meds covered and the treatment at a $15 co-pay. Without financial restraints, she's free to do as many treatments as necessary.

But I think she's going to tell me she doesn't even want to do a second one.

This lunch is going to test me. Not our friendship, but ME, to my core.

I'm going to have to be a better friend. I'm going to have to be a stronger woman. A stronger infertile woman. I'm going to have to listen without the pain ringing in my ears and help her figure out what is best for her even though from my angle she's been handed the golden ticket and she needs to get in the glass elevator. I can't throw her series of fortunate events back at her and tell her to be thankful.

That is not what she will necessarily need or want to hear.

Ugh, ugh, ugh.

I shouldn't complain, but

I have been so ridiculously tired lately that I've taken to, dare I admit it, NAPPING! WTHeck!

The insomniac in me has taken the long road out and now I can hardly stay awake. The troubling part of this is that I'm falling asleep on the couch at 10:30, completely unable to stay awake another minute, and any show that I watch faithfully is on from 10 to 11. I have missed the second half of all my shows for at least a week now. We don't have enough memory in the DVR to keep up with my conflicting sleep habits.

And the napping, my God. I dozed off in the parking lot of Bam-Bam's preschool this morning, thankfully Tall Boy was there with me and woke me when it was time to go get him. Then when we got home, I fell asleep on the couch for over an hour and woke up in just enough time to make dinner before TB had to leave for work.

Someone please stop the insanity!

Walking different paths

When you're young, there's no instructions outlined on how to cope with walking different paths with a heavy heart. There is no magic method. There is no sure-fire plan for how to face difficult differences. Lately I've been trying to find mine and it's been hard.

We are all handed a very individual life. Each of us has our own past, present and future that will never be like anyone else's. How we react to what we encounter is based on many different factors: our previous experiences both positive and negative, the impact of influential people that we share our lives with, our deeply rooted gut feelings, our moral compass, and our social eptitude or, conversly, ineptitude.

The depth to which we are affected by the actions and choices of others is as individual as the affected. As much as we'd like to think that what other people do, have, choose has no bearing on what happens to us, in truth, that is unrealistic.

Here at Hero's, there's a lot going on in the background that is having tremendous impact on my core. All of it beyond my control yet soaking deep into some painful places that, in spite of all my efforts, feels impossibly personal. I've always believed that what happens to others that can't or doesn't happen for me has no bearing on the joyfulness that I feel for the fortunate. I believed myself to be realistic. I believed myself to be the cheerleader. Hooray for you! Great job! Awesome! I'm not woeful. I'm not a victim. I'm not ungrateful.

I don't want anyone's pity for my cards because I honestly believe that my cards are just DIFFERENT cards, not better or worse. We have all got cards that are hard to play out. Choose your poison, you've got them. Even if you've never shared your difficult cards with anyone else, they're there.

A couple of my difficult cards have moved to the top of the deck lately and amid all the busy-ness of my life, I'm trying to keep it all in perspective. The last thing I want is for someone I love to not know or feel from me that I'm anything but overjoyed for them. I genuinely am. Deep into the place where the pain lies is the joy. They come hand-in-hand.

Where I struggle is in the description of what I'm feeling with the joy. Disappointment? No. Regret? Definitely not. Entitlement? Never. Short-changed? Maybe a little. Given the raw deal? Possibly.

I want to blame someone. I want the ability to have my pain directed AT someone. I want someone to see my wounds and acknowlege that they caused them. I want an apology. I want things made right.

That person doesn't exist.

The balance is in the coping. Something they don't teach you when you're young. Sure, they teach you how to cope with sharing your favorite toy, losing the game, not getting the promotion. Small ticket items my friends.

The head count will be no less than 8 when all is said and done. No. Less. Than. Eight.

See?

This is what I mean.