So, the Zoloft seems to be keeping the tears from being at the surface 90% of the time.  I feel numb in general a lot of the time, which I especially noticed when something unrelated happened that I should have been upset about and I wasn't.  That tells me that this dose would ordinarily be too much and that when this nightmare is over one way or another, I should go back to a lower dose.  This is what is letting me function at this point, though, so I'm going to keep it here as long as I need that level of numbing.

While the Zoloft numbs the emotions, it doesn't do anything for/about the negative thoughts.  The thoughts that every month is going to be this horrible, the thoughts that we can't afford to see a fertility clinic, the thoughts that we can't afford to adopt either, the thoughts that only rich people can create a family if it's not handed to them on a silver platter, the firm expectation and belief that I/we will continue to fail each month.  Hopefully the therapy will help with this part.

On a semi-related note, I came up with an analogy tonight to describe what my life is like and somewhat how that relates to my faith.  To set the scene, a couple weeks ago my mom had sent me the Footprints in the Sand poem over email.  I've always loved that one, but right now I feel like I'm not being helped or carried and I told her that.  She replied that God still is carrying me.  My thought in response was that if He is carrying me, it feels like He's letting parts of me drag along the sand to the point where I'm getting road rash.

So tonight I was thinking while I drove to drill.  A lot of stuff has been going on in the last week or two, some related to the infertility and some not, or not directly.  I realized that I feel like grain that God is grinding between the millstones of circumstance.  There may be something good that comes out of it, like flour, but in the process, I am being utterly mutilated and destroyed.

Previous circumstances have been like threshing the grain, knocking me out of my comfort zone and into where I can be used, but they only knocked me around, they didn't destroy me.  No matter how bad it got, I still knew that I could do it, that I could make it through and accomplish what I wanted to and needed to if I only kept fighting.  This is different.  Every time I think I might be able to get my head above water long enough to catch a breath, another wave of shit comes in and tries to drown me.  I try to cling to the few things in my life that are going well, but they're increasingly overwhelmed by everything else.

Gee, can you tell I like analogies?