I tend to pen either ridiculous blog material or what could be considered somewhat intense, deeply personal musings. I do that in ‘real life’ too… I think it’s how I keep my sanity…. Regardless, this is one of those deep crappy sappy ones, so if you’re not in the mood, now may be an excellent time to go toss the football with the kids in the backyard…
It’s no secret that I struggle with my faith, my weight and self-esteem. I doubt that I’ll ever NOT struggle with it. Most days I can deal with it. But sometimes, they combine their nasty forces for evil and release some super storm. Sorta like when Jean Grey Summers became the Phoenix in X-Men… sorta…
And as a side note… most everything ‘serious’ that I ever blog about is extremely personal. Not to say it shouldn’t be shared – it’s not called the World Wide Web for nothing – but as an exercise for me. There’s a few things that I’ve learned over the years… A) Bottling it all up and keeping it to yourself is extremely unhealthy and can have terrible consequences. B) Somebody, somewhere, is probably going through or will go through some variation of whatever it is that you’re feeling at this moment. C) Blogging for me is a way to keep myself honest. It’s almost a religious or holy experience for me. Being able to emote through written words releases an endorphin of sorts. It’s that gasp of extremely valuable air that you need while you’re in the ocean, allowing you to be carried away by the waves for a few more moments.
It’s also a wonderful way to procrastinate when you don’t really want to talk about what’s bothering you…
Okay, so here’s my baggage. I’m still really upset over the whole Africa trip thing… I feel like I was going there with very pure intentions and it was mistaken as something otherwise. I’m not exactly sure how it could have been, but I’m devastated by it. Isaac sometimes tries to explain the possible reasoning behind the other person’s response, but really, all I want to hear is, “They were completely wrong and you were completely right.” That’s probably totally immature and I’m sure there’s a few of you who would say, “Just get over it”, but hey, that’s where I’m at. That wound is still very, very sore. And I’m having a lot of difficulty moving past it.
I hate how much weight I’ve gained. My breathing is labored, airplane seats are tighter, clothes don’t fit. I eat all the time. I eat everything. It’s my comfort and my thorn. I have no idea how that works, but I’m stuck in that hamster wheel again. I joined Weight Watchers again in February. I’ve gone once since then. I haven’t been to the gym in months. I really don’t want to go back. What I really want to do is sleep. And eat. And then sleep more. I have headaches all the time. I don’t go certain places or see certain people because I’m so freaked out by how many pounds I’ve put on since I last saw them. When I was thinner, I liked some of the attention I got and the clothes that I could wear… but I hated hearing people comment on in. It was like a little stab in my heart when people would say something about how “skinny” I was. (For the record – I’ve never been skinny. Just less fat.) I wasn’t able to take the compliments well. That, and I still felt like a fat person stuck in a thinner person’s body. Weird shit, I know.
Ah yes, and now on to the most painful one. The one I don’t really want to talk about, but feel like I should… the stupid, God damn baby issue. Nothing in this world makes you feel like a bigger loser as a woman, than not being able to pro-create. Zippo. Nada. Zilch. There are so many emotions that come with it. Anger is really the one that I’m pretty stuck in lately. Haven’t bothered with birth control in over 3 years. “Trying” for around a year or more. To some people that nothing. But to me, it feels like eternity. Periods are never an enjoyable experience, but once a month, I am now reminded that I suck at making babies. It makes me hate myself and my body even more. Again, a million and one emotions all the time. Guilt, shame, anger, betrayal… all kinda wrapped up in there. Until 3 or 4 years ago, I didn’t actually want a baby. At all. (side note: my incredibly good friend, Katie, is fond of reminding me that whatever I swear I don’t want to happen, eventually happens. So please, let me take this time to say, “I never want to be rich. I never want to be rich. I never want to be rich.” Okay, back to seriousness…) I had no desire to be a mom, mainly because I thought I would be so terrible at it. My child would hate me; I wouldn’t want it; I’d be a horrible parent; I wouldn’t want to be involved in its life; there would be something wrong; I would miscarry; I wouldn’t be able to afford it… Lots of deep seeded shit that I had to wade through. With a lot of help from my shrink and friends, I was able to release some of that pain. I think I believed that if I let go of the pain and the unsubstantiated thoughts, everything would work out. However, Life does not work that way. So now I’m a bit tangled between being angry that I can’t seem to produce the one thing my body was made to create and all of those funky, ugly thoughts and emotions bubbling up again. The fact of the matter is, I could write this and next month, be pregnant and have this really great kid/life. But I’ve also thought that for the last 3 years.
People try and say really nice, helpful, comforting things. While I appreciate the thought, they aren’t helpful. Some people close to me have offered to pray. That’s fine if you want to, but please don’t tell me about it. I don’t pray anymore. I feel like God’s kinda just thrown me into a bunch of shit the last several years, and I’m worn out. I’m burned out. I no longer belong. I have lost my tribe and I feel homeless. I’m not going to go to church and beg God for something that he already knows I want. Something I’ve prayed for long ago. I will not use him as my magic genie any more.
I’m depressed again and that frustrates the life out of me. I feel l have nothing left to give most days. I am mentally and physically worn out. I don’t enjoy the same things that I used to. I want just a very few select group of people around me so I kinda of retreat otherwise. I would love to just sleep all day. But I can’t. I get really needy when I get like this. I feel deserted and alone and like a failure. I feel like I bog down my marriage and friendships and life. Blah.
I dunno. So maybe there’s someone out there who sometimes feels alone or sad or wants to have a kid and can’t seem to. Or maybe you think I’m as big of a loser as I do. Who knows. Feel free to comment or post your struggles anonymously.