Things got to the point that I couldn't make eye contact with or even look in the direction of my boss without my stomach lurching and feeling like I would puke. Every time I see him, I start feeling those contractions deep in my lower back, and I start hearing the ambulance outside my house, and I start hearing that conversation the day he told me that I had to move on.
I'm still trying so hard to not have hard feelings, but I still have hard feelings against the world in general.
I know that the biggest fault lies with the ER that sent me home without consulting an OB the night they said my uterus was full of blood. I know that work couldn't have known something that serious was going on, and I know that if he had any idea something like that would have happened, my boss would never have done what he did. But that doesn't ease the hurt or the fear of the future.
I'm terrified of pregnancy. I'm terrified of pissing in the middle of the night. I'm terrified of sex. I'm terrified of the possibility of watching another baby die.
I've lost what little motivation I did have, especially at work. I don't want to be there. I don't want to deal with people. I don't want to learn. I don't want to constantly defend or explain myself. I don't want to deal with another flashback on the flight line in the middle of the night.
I don't want to do anything anymore. At home, I don't want to put in the effort to get out of my pajamas unless I absolutely have to. Most days I just lay in bed, snuggled up with Brake's blankey and the dog, fighting nightmares and dreading reality.
(Most days look a lot like this, except I'm in the Pacific Northwest, so those would be rain clouds.)
I can honestly say that I am in much better control of my emotions now than I have been in the last several months, but I am definitely in a lot worse place now than ever before. I have seriously all but given up. I can't say it's because of this new work/doc stuff because in all honesty, I knew what happened a long time ago. I might not have had a doctor tell me, but in my heart, I knew. I think I'm just that exhausted. Mentally. Emotionally. Physically.
I have 9 months and 1 day left in this place. My boss asked where my reenlistment package was a couple days ago, and I laughed in his face and said "Fuck that." I start preparations for separation this week. Transition-back-to-the-real-world classes. Separation physicals. All that nonsense. I told Bryan to start looking for a real job. I want him to be able to finish his degree, but I can't keep carrying the weight of being the provider anymore. I can't keep carrying the burden this place puts on me. I want out of this. I've already started looking at jobs outside.
I don't know how this is gonna go, but it has to be better than being as miserable as I am now.