Escapism

Beautiful readers, I am sorry that the blog has taken a bit of a different direction lately. We received word that none of our embryos lived long enough to freeze; the embryologist was baffled, and no one quite knows what is wrong with us. We've accumulated quite a bit of debt from our last cycle, so it will be a few years before we can pay that off and save enough for more treatments. As a result, I'm not feeling very funny. With time, I'm sure that humor will make its way back into my repertoire of coping strategies. For now, I have an urge to deal with our failure in a different way.

Escapism. Wikipedia describes it as an action taken to relieve persistent feelings of depression and to remove oneself from his or her biologically normal nature. Appropriate, eh? Each time a failed treatment cycle ends, I get a strong desire to pick up and move to Greece. No matter that Mr. Sulfa doesn't speak Greek and doesn't want to move. No matter that neither of us have an idea of what we'd do for a living. No matter that the economy there is still in deep trouble. Life would be far from easy. I just want to get away from reminders of my failure and the life that needs to continue on despite my heartbreak.

Instead, I wake up every morning, go to work, smile and joke just as if everything is okay.