The Game

This week I feel like an unfortunate ball-bearing in an old-fashioned pin ball machine. I've been bounced about and knocked against the walls.
You cannot predict what the day will bring when you feel like this. Sometimes, for no reason at all, I am strong. Others, I am not. There is no choice in this mourning game.
Today I have my ceramics course. It is nice to be working with my hands and creating something physical, alongside all of these emotional building blocks.
I did something very out of character on Tuesday. I wrote and complained to Channel 4. I was 'shocked and saddened' (proper complaining words), when I watched a pregnant mother, who was sent home because her labour wasn't progressing on One Born Every Minute, saying that she felt upset that she was leaving the hospital with nothing. It was totally inappropriate, considering the number of women, like me, who actually go home empty handed. This mother was back again within four hours and delivering her baby girl safely. Obviously, I am sensitive to these things, but it still felt wrong. So I wrote. And I complained and I received a proper apology. Apparently, my comments will be passed onto the producer. I doubt they actually will, but it's nice to know that I did not just keep quiet.
I don't recognise myself at the moment. My life feels like a nuclear bomb has been detonated, with pieces flying in every direction. I do things like complain to a television company. Next, I'll be a Daily Mail story.