Morning light in view
Bed warm with an empty side, still
Listen for your breath
Even if the one who gives me butterflies doesn’t recognize it. I’m tired of doubting myself and trying to understand what about ME isn’t conforming to their standards.
All of them.
I am enough. In fact, I might just be too much. I’m not missing out on them. They are missing out on me. I’m tired of dulling my glimmer to keep from outshining them. I’m tired of feeling sheepish when they tell me I’m “intimidatingly smart.”
I’m tired of amazing connections being written off because one thing doesn’t immediately “spark” or maybe “someday” someone might want ______insert here_______.
Fear of missing out is bullshit. Cowardice.
I’m a lot, I get it.
I AM ALSO:
Honest to a fault.
I’m good enough to do this.
I’m smart enough to complete that.
I am fucking EXTRAORDINARY.
Ubiquitous coupling of individuals:
dating, seeing, hooking up, hoping…
Such hope, misshapen and oft, mistakenly placed
Among those who could be a catalyst…
For the exchange of energy
A soft place to fall
A mirror for reflection
Can you be trusted?
Can you trust?
Me in a vulnerable place
You in a similar position
Our traumas they resound
Like echoes they attract
Signal like a beacon
Other lost souls
to find their way back
Pain is sensual
An illusion we embrace
But the questions still remains:
Can we hold hands?
Lead each other;
through the forest,
Do we walk toward light
Or retreat back to the dark…
Fear feels safe…
I find it interesting how things NEVER turn out the way you think they will. I feel like humans spend a lot of time anticipating things and the ease with which they will happen some strange day in the future…
As soon as I get out of school;
As soon as I get into school;
As soon as I get married;
As soon as I get divorced;
Or in my case, as soon as my kids grow up and move out.
I have a relationship history, baggage let’s say. due to the fact that I am apparently old… I have more than the average of marriages/divorces under my belt but that average was from before I was 23, I am a very different person now and like ALL OF US, with what I know now, of course I would make different choices. But then, I made some pretty grown up decisions that have somehow, made my life easier then, and decidedly more complicated now. What vexes me is that I always thought it would be easier now.
What I am finding however, is that most everyone within what I find to be a comfortable dating age range either has very young children or wants to have them. Many who approach me right out the gate make it clear they are looking for a stepmom not a partner per se (mostly the freshly divorced). It is frustrating. Not to mention, the job I have now is less than encouraging when it comes to parenting or co-parenting. I see the worst in people as it relates to parenting and children. So, there is that, too.
I could have more children; if I got a $7,500 surgery or did IVF, I have checked into it, as recently as two years ago. I have been curious about it a long time. I was even going to do surrogacy until I turned 37, which is the magic age that makes it unprofitable. I am at a point in my life, professionally, psychologically, financially, etc. that I would probably be a really good parent (not to say I wasn’t before, but hey money and education really do help.) I envy some of my friends who are just having their first. My family members, too. Meanwhile, I’m expecting grandkids any day, at the ripe old age of 38. But I really don’t think I would want more of my own; that being said…
I’ve never had kids with someone who wanted kids. I’ve never had kids when I wanted kids. I’ve never really co-parented longer than a couple years. It is all very tempting. Truly. I had my tubes tied at 21? 22? because I love kids. I just couldn’t afford more of them and without support, couldn’t parent more than the two I had, alone.
Once upon a time, I thought that would be attractive to someone. No ticking biological clock. No concerns about a pregnancy oops. No reason to use protection in a relationship. You know? Alas.
Instead, I find that really amazing connections and potential connections, are lost because of it. Sigh. Patriarchy wins again. And I didn’t even get to participate in the conversation, it was just a decision they made. (At a point in dating that had I, as a female, brought up having children, I’m sure it would have been weird…)
Men have no real shelf life when it comes to producing children.
*yes, yes, #notallmen are fertile. I know.*
But in general, if a man can find someone to get pregnant, he can until he dies.
We women, we are burdened with the choices that we have to make to raise the kids we have. We bear the main burden and decisions to keep or not keep a child. Yes, men might participate but we bear the brunt privately and publicly. We are burdened with a window of time to procreate.
We are burdened:
Be pretty. Be young. Be fertile. Be smart. Be humble. Be a feminist (but not so much that I can’t open a car door for you or be manly).
Be what I want or need in my idea of how things should be.
I wish people could communicate better, I am very upfront about not looking to have more kids or get married.
Doesn’t mean I wouldn’t, just that I am not looking for that.
There are always ways to make a family. Family isn’t always about marriage or genetic children. And hey! Technology has made all sorts of things possible. People are having children in their 60s. Men are having babies. Nature and technology can find a way.
Meh, I digress. This post wasn’t meant to be about that particular piece. But regardless, of my ability/inability to breed, navigating online dating is much more difficult than I ever imagined.
Maybe I am too hypervigilant. (*Just because I am hypervigilant doesn’t mean I am wrong… Just FYI)
Maybe I am gunshy. Maybe I don’t know the new world rules of what is appropriate now in nonorganic database dating regarding contact, texting, amounts, context. I never really “dated” before. I was married at 16. I have randomly been with other people over the years, but usually it was friends of friends or friends that I became romantically involved with. The first time I online dated, I got lucky. I ended up spending the larger part of 5 years with the first person I dated from okcupid. So, my experiences have been limited. And everyone seems to have a different idea of what “normal” is.
This dating go round, 25% have been amazing, too awesome, probably. 25% have been boring beyond belief. 25% have been aggressive and controlling. And the last 25%? Oh yeah. Sex offender. Woot. Hell of a learning curve there.
Way to go, filters.
So I will just sit here, like the memes say, and wait for mr/mrs right to break into my house, I guess. Huzzah.
*I might have agreed with them in said conversation which never took place. Or maybe I’d have wanted to have a baby. Who knows now.
But you know, I just wanted to know they knew what it felt like to be thirsty. I didn’t want a glass of water.*
Bonus points if you get the reference.
dapples dancing through
blurred like wind
edges lost in memory
a temporal shift
the place where reasons haze
where I wanted to be
where you are
searching out my constant
382 is 1444
grasping wanting more
the fucking Witter factor…
questing for a restore point
Rose Hill? Latah? Helen Street?
half forgotten Arms of Ponderosa
seeking out the Coastline
drowning in the Fathom
the inevitableness of you
subsequent fear of losing it
an unavoidable event horizon.
Was reading about dry drowning
And I suddenly was four.
Remembering my mother’s hypervigilance surrounding me
“It only takes a teaspoon to drown!”
And this led to my flooded warren…
My Piscean draw to the moon
Sand and waves
My mermaidian desires
How it wasn’t her android pelvis holding me back
But my fear of leaving the amniotic
Funny now, I think of it.
How we need the water
We’re 75% or something
(Same as the earth herself)
But she refused to let us wear seat belts,
Because if we wrecked in the drink, we’d drown.
She was so scared of water.
Never did learn how to swim
Except for underneath
And strangely, she never did come up,
To surface so she died:
In the life giving force we need
And instilled the fear
But it only made me want it more
Then the thoughts, they jumped to you.
The cliffs we slid down in winter,
And the irony of the ocean that day
Your ass hitting the ice,
A frozen attempt at life
You lost me in the sea grass
But climbed a tree to scout me a path.
I’m not hydrophobic anymore.
As always, in this non-stop over-analytical brain of mine, I have been pondering a lot of things as of late; mainly the fact that over and over again I am told that I am a narcissist due to my verbal observations that I am the common denominator in all of my failures, from relationships to interoffice communications. I have been reflecting on this a lot, as I was studying for my clinical board exam. (I do not fit the criteria, in case you were wondering).
However I do find that I tend to be a pessimist, I feel paranoid often, and I make trust issues themselves suspicious. It’s a thing. I know it. I have done lots of therapy over the years.
As a teenager, I used to tell people I was bipolar, as if it were a cool thing…something to be proud of that explained how much of a special, creative, and emotional snowflake I was… Not knowing how fucked up that was. Ignorance is bliss right? But I do know that I have occasionally fit the criteria for a variety of personality disorders, namely dependent and/or borderline personality disorder, but they wax and waned over the years to the point that while I may feel it sometimes it is no longer acutely “diagnosable”(sp). I know that is the least professional way to put it but I am not sure how else to word it. Go with me, please.
Many times, I have found that I am jealous of people that are bubbly, happy, ridiculously positive. I have even caught myself assuming that they are less intelligent than I. I mean come on, how can you know what is happening in the world and still be that FUCKING happy? But the world is always fucked up. I have nothing to show that it will ever be anything else. We just have more knowledge of it these days, right? So what is the secret? Mindfulness? Ignorance? “staying present”? How do you get there? I believe that thoughts are things and that aside from being a commercial success, things like “The Secret” have something to them, albeit financially fleecing as they are. That does not mean they are not correct, real, or accurate. If the people getting rich and being successful from sharing this info are doing it, then huzzah, it works? Who knows. But how do you maintain it? How do you stay positive, happy, etc in the life we are given?
It seems to me that there is a common theme throughout all written history of humans, we suck, we are unhappy, and yet, we persist. We run the spectrum, from being capable of the worst things imaginable, to being capable of the most awe inspiring things. I always think of the movie, The Abyss and the part at the end where the distraught aliens decide NOT to annihilate us because of this observation. There is always the question of why, for what, how come, what is the meaning, what is happy, how do you find it, etc etc etc.. I have no illusions of being a special or creative snowflake for thinking about this. I am no narcissist in this regard. But really, how do people do it?
What is THE SECRET?
How do you feel satisfaction and fulfillment in a sustainable way? How do you maintain relationships? Jobs? Sanity?
How do you become a Katie fucking Couric? So maddeningly fucking positive that you can find a direction and impetus in tragedy?
How do you stay in the moment, when everything is distracting you with shiny lights or terrifying depths?
You know, asking for a friend.