"Stop Complaining!"

The above quotation was uttered by my son while assembling a Lego kit with his grandma Nee-Nee. Right away two things were apparent to me, one, that Nee-Nee sure was having a tough time with that Lego set, and two, I've spent a fair amount of time telling Henry not to complain, because, you know, a four year old boy never whines about anything, ever. And then there's the third thing that came to mind, about me not telling myself to stop complaining enough to where, like Henry, I can see when it's counterproductive and give it a rest. That being said, oh my gosh I can't believe how much life sucks-- just kidding. Everything is cool. Honestly. Though not everything is as cool as I'd like. But still...

Talked to the doctor who performed my surgery last Friday. This was after I wasn't angry anymore, after that night when I was really ticked off and not understanding why stupid things seem to be fond of happening to me, then I just threw it all up in the air and said, "Heavenly Father, I trust you." So I wasn't angry when I went in for the post-op discussion, just curious about what would be said and a little nervous because I didn't know what I'd say. So it turns out it was pointless for me to be upset about my guts being largely untampered with, as my case of (wait for it) salpingitis isthmica nodosa is such that surgery is counter indicative. Which pretty much boils down to I might get pregnant again naturally, or I may not. Honestly it was disappointing to hear that, especially since I have no idea when/if I had a pelvic infection that caused the problem, and from fruitless experience over the past four years suggests that the may not is a lot more probable that the might. Yeah, there's lots of stuff I can easily find cause to complain about, but what I've really found that it's like when Henry asks me a thousand times "Why?" and I finally have to answer an exasperated, "Because." Because, that's why. So that's my ultimate take on the matter: no matter how disappointing, it isn't cruel or unfair, it just is. And I guess I'm cool with that.

Then we move on to the stake Relief Society Enrichment thing I didn't want to go to. I hate going to these things because they always have a meal afterward where you're supposed to mingle and socialize and there's always such a big crowd of people I don't know that I slowly start to freak out. It's uncomfortable, but not to the point where I feel like I need meds to deal with it. If I'm with someone I know I can usually fake my way through it, but the last time I went I rode with some neighbors I wasn't well acquainted with and I awkwardly kept things together, but when it came time to go to the next meeting I flaked out at the last minute and stayed home. Saturday morning I got up and went, and then realizing when I got there that the meeting was going to be in the chapel, felt nice and stupid for wearing jeans. But, as I sat down inconspicuously in the back, I saw my mission pal, Kyna, so I snagged a seat beside her. The meeting was so awesome that I'd have to have kicked my own butt if I'd missed it. The lunch wasn't so bad until Kyna had to duck out early. I stayed put at the table full of strangers, albeit nice ones, trying to fake my way through it; I even came back after a trip to the restroom. One of them commented on my awkward silence, "You must think we're nuts," or something like that, and I wanted very much to reply, "Nope, my mouth's just glued shut with terror... Help! I'm being slowly crippled by social anxiety!" You better believe I ducked out as soon as people started getting up to leave.

I can look at this as either a success or failure. A success because I got what I needed out of the meeting, because I didn't bolt as soon as Kyna got up to leave, that I came back from the bathroom, that I smiled and tried to make eye contact with people, that I lasted as long as I could. A failure-- well, screw that. I'm the Queen of Awesomeness!