I’m a closet escapist.
Well, now that it’s out in the open, I suppose I can no longer call myself “closet” escapist. I am openly an escapist! I AM AN ESCAPIST!
It’s just that with all that infertility shit going on around here, there are days when I just want to be anywhere but here.
I want to go somewhere where I can start afresh and not have to think about when the next cycle is and how we are going to pay for it and how I am going to fit all those hospital visits with work.
I want to live by myself and not have to think about how I am currently the only viable uterus to spawn potential grandchildren for the husband’s parents.
I want to be far away from their expectations, away from their desire for us to do exactly as they say, away from this feeling of being trapped.
Some days, I think: If I could run away, I would.
Yannisms 