Of course it could be worse…always.

Sitting at my parents’ house having a minor breakdown, someone rings the doorbell.  Working America (AFL-CIO).  Okay, yes, kind of illustrates the point.  Shit sucks right now, but it sure as hell could be a lot worse.  I have a helluva lotta first world woes these days.  The logical part of me insists I should be getting it back together by now and moving on in some fashion, but I’m just frozen.  I.  I don’t know what to say.  I still have no answers.  The million dollar workup wasn’t worth my own two cents, everything being “normal.”  Riiiight.  I mean, that was a lot of blood samples.  I thought for sure there’d be SOMETHING of note.  All those tests?  Nothing?  Of course, that is just the tip of the iceberg for what may or may not come next.  For the life of me, I just…don’t feel capable of pursuing that road right now.  But admitting that makes me nauseous.  I’m stuck.  I feel trapped, but there are neither traps nor trappings to this silly little mess I’m making from a molehill to a mountain.  It is what it is, I just don’t know what it is, or what’s to be done about it, if anything.  Perhaps that’s what pisses me off the most – that I can’t comprehend it, explain it, say anything about it, because what’s to be said?  Nothing.  Normal?  I still don’t know what to do with that.  Act normal, whatever that means, I guess.  Try to keep calm and carry on?  I suppose ‘twould be prudent.  Fuck.  You know what’s also probably a good idea?  Getting the hell out of here and away from that blue afghan.  Yikes.  It IS almost as big as a bedspread.  That’s what makes me nauseous.  It’s one thing to deal with my own disappointment, but it seems to be quite another to disappoint someone else.  While most of me realizes that this isn’t my fault, and nobody has said anything of that nature to me, and there’s no point playing what-if, I can’t help but think…so many things.  So many vices.  So much procrastination.  No.  Don’t bother.  No going back.  Moving straight ahead.  Gaily forward.  Or something.  That general direction, anyhow.  I didn’t do this on purpose.  I don’t know what I want to feel about it.  I feel like I’m too old to do the ugly crumpled face cry like a heartbroken teenager who’s been rejected by a crush or a first love.  This is not that.  This is….  What the fuck is this, anyway?  It fucking sucks, I’ll give you that.

Part of me thinks this is stupid.  If I want to parent, I can parent.  People make babies every fucking day.  I haven’t even been able to bring myself to google adoption and give that a single concrete thought.  I don’t even want to think about it.  I am too selfish.  Maybe I’m actually one of those people that other people think of when they say, some people just shouldn’t have kids, and I’ve just been deluding myself all along.  I am too lazy.  I am too cheap.  I realize that kids aren’t necessarily expensive, lifestyles are.  I am used to doing more with less.  Or at least enough, with less.  Something tells me neither adoption nor whatever the hell a genetic counselor would suggest for us would be as economic as growing our own.  Ew.  I am not heartsick over genetics, and I don’t want to be.  Family is not forged in blood, it’s forged in love.  That’s the easy part.  It’s the logistics that are always tricky.  I’m not ready for details yet.  I am still trying to figure out the big picture, even though I don’t want to think about that either.  I’m just pissed.  I left that office with birth control pills, intending for the first time in six years at least to allow myself at least the summer to NOT THINK ABOUT IT.  Let it go for a hot minute.  Be thirty and enjoy myself.  Stupid, stupid, stupid.  Not only did I fall for it, I got my hopes up, too, in spite of how bloody OBVIOUS it was what was happening.  I need to refresh my cynicism.  It’s hard to do when people are so kind.  I’ve been cut a lot of slack already.  There’s not a person out there who doesn’t have plenty of their own shit going on, but so many people have been willing to drop everything, or at least a lot of things, for me when I’ve needed it.  I need to get a handle on the things that are still left standing.  I have a lot of good in my life regardless of where this one thread leads.  Not sure why I ever felt entitled to it, somehow, but I did.  So many people make it look so halfway easy, I started to think it could actually be done, by me, by us.  Just in time to see that it really might not happen, at least not the easy way, apparently, for now.
Oh well.  We’ll see, I guess.  Maybe.  If we’re lucky…stranger things have happened, I hear.
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3 thoughts on “Of course it could be worse…always.

  1. suntzusays says:

    Most of us have pettier shit going on than this, most of us anyway. First world troubles indeed. Not to make your situation out to be the worst thing in the world, but seriously, what exactly do I have going on? The only part I figured on was keeping you moving around and doing stuff as much as can be managed. That can't keep going forever. That whole thermodynamics thing with the perpetual motion machine, but it's still something to try for as much as possible. Living when it happens and is experienced by accident is kind of interesting. Not always what you expected, but not playing the game of life at all doesn't have any expectations whatsoever. You can call some time-outs to buy yourself some time and space for bitching about it, thinking it over, and resting for the next round. But not very many or it just gets too long and full of some bitter remorse.

  2. I dunno, exactly. I get hints, but your vaulted stuff is vaulted too. Yes, eventually I will need to become part of the couch for a short period. Probably soon. Would be nice if I could line that up with a rainy day. Can't help but be a little bitter, but it's fairly petty in and of itself if I take a wider view, indeed. I'm not sorry though. No remorse yet.

  3. suntzusays says:

    Transitions are stressful and frustrating and take too long, but generally not unimaginably painful and bitter. It's usually what is being transitioned from that's the pain or bitter stuff. I don't have a "couch day/week" in my future regardless of what anybody does to help therefore, it's petty stuff when looking around at the rest. Usually the remorse is over what you didn't do and not what actually happens once you get up and start moving around.

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