They say 'you should write what you know'. I guess that makes all of us an expert on something, doesn't it? Write what you know. I know what it's like to be content even happy without something but when reminded or assured I can't have it, I ache . I know that ache. I hate it. It eats at me and every month like clockwork, it mocks me. It redifines who I want to be and for a brief selfish moment makes me regret what I'm inevitably not. Logic has no part in this cruel drama for even when I remind myself how much better off I am and how free and perfect my situation already is, I feel the loss. Can you call something you didn't lose a loss? It feels like a loss. And to make it worse, much worse, despite those who are sensitive to your particular emotional ailment, there are those who are clueless and mean well but continually twist the knife in your side. They are not doing anything out of the ordinary, or going out of their way to try to comfort you or pity you; they are just living their lives. Living their lives with their sonograms and bronzed baby shoes and obligatory baby 'pics' that you are sentenced to smile at and comment on. Of course your baby is cute; who's isn't. Even if it isn't, it is. And to start hating a baby, that just crosses the line into monsterous. If one more well meaning mother's group sends me an e-mail to be their friend I'm going to scream. I'm a mother and to even complain about anything must make me a despicable hag. I'm not a mother of a child though; he's a teen. He doesn't require my life in the way an infant would and I should be grateful. I don't want to want this. I don't want to want this. Heaven forbid anyone should read this thinking I'm trying to convince myself of something. I'm aware of that reality which I think makes this reality so much more clear. I don't want to want this. Why is that so hard to believe? Is it because I cry almost every month. That could be it. I hate my tears; they're insincere. Who says your heart knows better than your head?... everyone who has ever had an affair or a divorce. My emotions are telling my mind that it is wrong. I do want this; but I don't want this. Sure, just fill your time with other things; hobbies, career, education. Fill your life so you feel no voids. Sorry. Listen to the wealthy and overworked if you think filling your time or your pocketbook will complete you. Are we doomed to ever feel incomplete? Will God Himself fill those missing pieces in? Are we genuinely missing a piece? If by filling that missing space, will the next void in the puzzle be unveiled? Does this life only offer contentment and satisfaction in the acceptances of our missing pieces?
So here I am, passing up the opportunity to once again sleep next to the most wonderful man in the world. I choose to sit here and try to figure out the complexities of the universe on a brightly lit laptop in a dark and smelly room. It's raining. I love the rain. Rain is such an accutely simple representation of cleansing. It's dark, and late and cold and raining. It sounds melodic and calming and clean. I love the rain. If i walk outside I'll wake him. he'll worry and not get the sleep he needs. Not if I walk out the back door. I think I will. I'm not dressed. Pajamas would attract attention wouldn't they? Just on the porch maybe or I'll just sit here by the window and with the cats, enjoy the cool of the evening. It's such a beautiful evening, morning I should say. It's so late, it's early. My favorite time of night. My favorite time to write.