Some kind of human anomaly

I guess I’m upset that she told them I had a miscarriage.
My mom. To the rest of the (extended) family, I mean.
Today – looooong after it happened in March.
I never was much upset about the miscarriage, not even at the time – because it was so unexpected, I guess.
And, in theory, before now my mindset had been that if it came up or an appropriate moment presented itself to mom to say something to these extended relatives… no big deal.
But I guess I liked the idea of having that event be something only my most trusted people know about more than I thought.
I got comfortable with that.

She had said they were all talking about their grandchildren and, though she didn’t say it, I could tell she felt left out. She’s the only one of her 5 siblings to not have grandkids and she’s the second-eldest. So she said she did mention it and that there was all the expected reaction – the “oh no” and the “I’m so sorry”. One aunt asked if we were considering in vitro to which my mom responded that IVF is an expensive option and she thought we were just going to leave it up to “whatever happens, happens” at this point.
Which we kinda are… and we kinda aren’t.
But I didn’t get into that then.
I think she’s convinced herself of that so that she won’t be disappointed if it doesn’t happen. Fair enough.
It already breaks my heart that she’s missing out on the experience of having grandkids… I try not to think about that though. Cuz it’s not a reason for someone to decide to have a baby.

So I’m not mad at her for saying anything. It wasn’t a secret. I just wasn’t making a point of telling people other than the people we specifically told. We’re not avoiding talking about it. We’re ambivalent about talking about it – if it’s relevant, it’s relevant.

I guess it just surprised me that I was as upset as I am that I needed to write here. Hubby is busy with an online thing I can’t interrupt except in an emergency, which this certainly isn’t; however, I will talk to him about it at some point.

I’d been pondering the idea of telling people by casually bringing it up in conversation with certain cousins when/if we get together for Christmas. So I guess maybe I’m also sad that I won’t have the control over that non-announcement anymore. Guaranteed, the “news” will spread like wildfire now. Not that anybody will approach me about it or make me feel awkward – they’re not like that, they’re kind and mean well for the most part. I just haaaaate the idea of being the subject of the gossip. I know they have their opinions about my health issues. None of them have a true understanding of any of them so I can’t stand the idea of the spread of misinformation…

Why, how and when did I get like this? I distinctly remember a time in my teens when I thought “I don’t care what they think; I know the absolute truth and that’s all that matters” — and I really, truly believed it. I acknowledged other people’s views of my actions and then discarded them. And why do I now apparently fixate on the opinions of people who I, literally, despise and go out of my way to NOT spend time with?? Why do I bother caring about “scum” like that?? Somewhere along the line, my brain / chemistry got messed up…

Fuck my stupid life and trying to figure out why I am the way I am and trying to justify to myself how my body works or doesn’t work from one day to the next. I spend the majority of my time frustrated as fuck to the point of immobility with myself. And then frustrated that attempts made to better my health don’t go the way they should or don’t go the way they should for long because apparently I’m some kind of human anomaly.

Apparently, I’m angry.