15dpo and my temp was not decidedly down this morning, so, yes, I finally peed on a stick, and no, I am not pregnant.
So, I am in the never never land of knowing that my period just needs to come, and knowing it will, but not being sure just when.
It's ok, oddly, I am much more zen about this cycle than most. I know it will show up. I have pms from hell complete with self loathing, yes, it is imminent.
I've thought a lot about the idea of emotional preparation, -- the idea that somehow we can prepare ourselves and cushion a blow simply by knowing it might happen. Emotional preparation is something which I now firmly believe is a load of crap.
It's like this: you can anticipate an outcome, prepare for it intellectually (as in, identify it as a possible outcome), but the emotional response when it happens? Is what it is. The only thing missing is the added layer of surprise of facing a possibility one had not expected.
So, knowing this would probably most likely be negative does not mean I am not sad. I am sad, but I am not surprised.
I cleaned the toilet and the bathroom floor, went on a long heartpounding hike, wore myself out even more with lawn mowing (I have a kate-powered rotary mower thingy), and then ransacking my garden making way for some new bulbs coming soon, and digging in and moving brown eyed susans and coneflower.
Then? Errands in a town an hour away then made dinner and put in more laundry and now? Sofa.
And now, it catches up a bit, circles around and lies down just around my solar plexus. The nagging weight of ending this cycle, and starting again.