No laughs here today, guys. But this has been rolling around in my head and it’s tormenting me, so I took off my arm brace and am braving the pain to finally get it UP, get it OUT, get it on the computer so maybe my brain can rest. Maybe. We’ll see.
I was at my shrink this morning and started crying out of the blue. I was thinking about all my past relationships, all the love I gave that was never enough, how so many guys came and tried to change me into their perfect girlfriend, but how none of them actually loved ME, for ME. And of course the relationships failed. And like always, I’m alone again now.
But it goes deeper than that. I’ve always wanted a family, in the accepted social norm, that is. Husband, kids, cats, a little house with a yard, the “perfect” social norm of a family. I love to rage against the machine, don’t get me wrong. I am, as always, a die-hard liberal commie pinko socialist feminazi loudmouth, but when people ask what I want with my life, I feel the tears tingling inside and I say “I just want a family. A happy family. That’s what I want”. And then I excuse myself to go cry in the bathroom for a while.
Is it antiquated and twee and sickingly treacly? Sure. It’s also been my dream since I was very young. I see a picture of a friend’s baby or get YET ANOTHER wedding invitation in the mail, I get that pulsing headache that comes before a storm of tears. Because that isn’t my future. I’ve accepted that now. If Outpost31 stopped loving me because of my faults, if HE did, then I don’t see ever dating again. The pain is too great, the cuts too deep.
I look at my increasingly rounded body in the mirror, the product of fistfuls of medications and self-medicating with food, and my swollen face, and I don’t recognize myself. I used to be nice looking, even pretty. Not anymore. I saw in Outpost31’s eyes as the love faded and faded and eventually turned to disdain. He probably doesn’t think that’s true, but it is. I watched that love die. And then danced the dance of denial until the night he broke the last shard of my heart.
I think about babies, toddlers, children, tweens, teens, young adults that might have had my eyes. I’ve always loved kids, loved them so much and always thought I’d have a brood of them, kids with knobby knees and frizzy curls, kids who I would try my best to teach how to be kind, open, accepting, and loving. But I’ll never have that. Or an adopted child, maybe a girl with skin like powdered chocolate and a sparkling laugh. A boy with a shock of black hair and crooked teeth. I’d love any and all of them with all my heart and soul, but that’s not going to happen either. Who would give a child to me? With my medical history? With my psychiatric file? It would never happen. So I mourn. I grieve.
I also accept it. It’s time to accept it.
I feel you rolling your eyes. Yeah, it’s navel gazing and I’m feeling OH so sorry for myself, and for fucks sake woman, get a goddamn hold of yourself. And if that’s how you feel, that’s how you feel. I can’t change that.
Today I am grieving. For the family that will never be. For the love of a man that will never be real. For that beautiful child that will never call me “mommy”.
I grieve. I mourn. I accept.