I haven't let myself feel deeply painfully sad in a very long time. So long ago it must have been that I have forgotten how to cope. 

 Today, I was unable to dodge the darkness. 

I am married to a deeply traumatized person. The depth and sharpness of his painful experiences is so stunning that I have never been able to really imagine what it must have been like for him, or the ways that it must feel for him every day. 

  I have taken cues from him to not poke at it so much. 

Unable to resolve his own painful past, makes it nearly impossible for him to tolerate me being in pain. 

When I lost the pregnancy, he couldn't handle my tears, even hours after. 

I think I have begun to treat my own feelings like he treats his. 

  While we were making love a couple weeks ago, I realized I would never be pregnant. 'Realized' not like intellectually understood, but like emotionally felt. I teared up a bit but then put my feelings away. I am already struggling with doing the right thing raising Avan while he contends with having immature parents who seemingly cannot properly take care of themselves. I have used this hardship as my crutch for thinking it's a great thing I don't have a child of my own. It sucks. They take so much and make life hard and then society makes it all even harder and I have worked myself to exhaustion for decades anyway, just on my own. It's a good story. And it's even true. 

But this month, my period was late.  And my breasts kept getting sorer. And there was the tiniest blush on the toilet paper once but then it went away. After 2 days, the terrorizing fucking feelings came back. What if? After the third day, I was starting to imagine myself accepting my fate and buying a test. On the fourth day, my period came. In the morning. As we were preparing to go for lunch to a friends house with 3 young kids and meeting Amelia, who has the most beautiful daughter that I love  dearly and that I have wished I could have once exactly like her. 

  We had to stop to buy gifts for our hosts and I spilled a hot tea all over myself in the store and I was sticky and tired and had a headache and when Sattar asked me. simple question, I snapped "I don't know!"

I apologized a minute later, but he wouldn't have it. We picked up Avan in silence. 

   I tried every face I could make to not cry at the lunch in our friends homes as literally everyone there attended to their beautiful children. 

  I went into the bathroom to cry and to tell myself I hated my husband, that I couldn't and shouldn't be raising his child and that I needed to leave this country. 

   I wiped my eyes and thought about Greta and Andrew Tate to distract myself as I couldn't think of a single good thing in my life that didn't make me want to cry. 

I came out and we talked about the Greta and Andrew story. 

   I need to resolve this and it should involve my husband I think. But I also don't believe he can give it space. His pain is too prevalent. 

 Suppose I am glad I can afford a therapist.