So today happens to be my birthday. I had a horrible time sleeping last night, so I guess it must be affecting me. Maybe I'm deluded, but I don't think I would care much about getting older this year if we weren't still in the middle of trying to start our family. Other than this journey, I'm pretty happy with my life: I love my husband and my marriage; I love spending my days acting and teaching and enjoying the outdoors of Northern CA; I love the friends I've made so far in this world and I'm confident of many more to come. I'm doing the things I've always wanted to do, all except this one.
My sister-in-law is about to give birth to her fourth child. I think this added to the sleeplessness. I'm working so hard to be an enormous person: magnanimous and confident in the fact that other people's good fortune doesn't take away from or even relate to my own. I am having only moderate success in this struggle. The dark breezy early morning hours lying flat awake in my bed are my least successful moments. I am impressed, however, with the terrific imagination I am displaying in my inside my head diatribes and snarky comments. Someone should write a play.... :)
But all and all, this season of birth days isn't as bad as I anticipated it might be. Yesterday, a group of new friends celebrated me with a brunch and a walk, and I forgot all about biology and age and felt purely happy that there are people around who are glad I was born. I forgot all about what has occurred and what has not and what is coming up, and just experienced being celebrated for surviving. For still being here, for still fighting the good fight. And that felt good. And although in the quiet of my own head I get madder and meaner than even I thought possible, when I step out of bed and into reality, when I talk with my scared, frustrated sister-in-law, fighting her own battles and demons, when I see my niece and nephews, my kin, my clan, I move an enormous step in the right direction.
Not bad.
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
Monday, October 12, 2009
Prescription
To get through the horribles in an accelerated manner, try the following:
Go for a run at night. There is something slightly rebellious about it, slightly subversive, slightly spooky, slightly self-destructive and at the same time strength building. Plus, there are the endorphins. If you are lucky enough to have terrible weather while you are battling the horribles, you could substitute walking in the weather without any sort of protection. There is something absolutely epic about this, and nothing like it to experience both powerlessness, and the ability to stay standing. Plus, it always feels great when the outside world is crazier than I am.
Take a day off from work and behave as if you have a terrible flu. Wear extremely cozy, extremely ugly clothes, lots of them. Move from couch to bed and bed to couch, surrounded always by favorite books, remote controls and snacks. Lots of snacks. Liquids are good too. Just don't overdo it with the sugar: nasty backlash. Take a nap in the middle of the day in the very center of your fluffy bed with all your ugly clothes on. Don't shower until dinner time. Let your hair look horrible. Wear it in pigtails. Three of them.
Clean your house. Top to bottom. I call this a "not nailed down" day, meaning I wash anything not nailed down. Get on your hands and knees and scrub your kitchen floor Cinderella style. Scrub until there is sweat dripping off your nose. Do five loads of laundry. Vacuum under the bed. And the couch. Windex the mirrors. Buy Mr Clean's Magic Eraser. I'm sure whatever is in this stuff is the reason I'm not having babies, and yet I am unwilling to give up the magic that it works on every and any surface. Seriously. Go buy one. Now use it. It will make you happy.
Positive visualization. Imagine telling everyone you know that you have just met your elusive goal. Imagine throwing a party bigger than your wedding to welcome your triumph into the world. Imagine some outside the box ideas that will fix the stagnation. Imagine that this month is the month. This will happen. Imagine...
Go for a run at night. There is something slightly rebellious about it, slightly subversive, slightly spooky, slightly self-destructive and at the same time strength building. Plus, there are the endorphins. If you are lucky enough to have terrible weather while you are battling the horribles, you could substitute walking in the weather without any sort of protection. There is something absolutely epic about this, and nothing like it to experience both powerlessness, and the ability to stay standing. Plus, it always feels great when the outside world is crazier than I am.
Take a day off from work and behave as if you have a terrible flu. Wear extremely cozy, extremely ugly clothes, lots of them. Move from couch to bed and bed to couch, surrounded always by favorite books, remote controls and snacks. Lots of snacks. Liquids are good too. Just don't overdo it with the sugar: nasty backlash. Take a nap in the middle of the day in the very center of your fluffy bed with all your ugly clothes on. Don't shower until dinner time. Let your hair look horrible. Wear it in pigtails. Three of them.
Clean your house. Top to bottom. I call this a "not nailed down" day, meaning I wash anything not nailed down. Get on your hands and knees and scrub your kitchen floor Cinderella style. Scrub until there is sweat dripping off your nose. Do five loads of laundry. Vacuum under the bed. And the couch. Windex the mirrors. Buy Mr Clean's Magic Eraser. I'm sure whatever is in this stuff is the reason I'm not having babies, and yet I am unwilling to give up the magic that it works on every and any surface. Seriously. Go buy one. Now use it. It will make you happy.
Positive visualization. Imagine telling everyone you know that you have just met your elusive goal. Imagine throwing a party bigger than your wedding to welcome your triumph into the world. Imagine some outside the box ideas that will fix the stagnation. Imagine that this month is the month. This will happen. Imagine...
Saturday, October 10, 2009
Space To Be Filled
Sitting here, staring at the blinking cursor. It's been such a long time since I've posted, I wonder if all my readers have given up on this site. Dear readers, don't go away. I'm still here. I'm just a bit stuck.
Things are not nearly as bad as they were a year ago, when we were struggling for each breath. We are now fully functioning at work and on social dates and out and about in the world. But when the action stops, when the workdays finish, when the dates are done, a heaviness settles on us, and the weight of our unfulfilled dream presses the heart out of us.
Many, many unoccupied hours are spent in front of the TV; the desire to be taken out of ourselves is overwhelming and TV serves this purpose: a relatively benign narcotic. Like a junkie needing her fix, I can hardly wait to crawl back in from the improv rehearsal or the commercial audition and snuggle into my safe little spot on my yellow leather couch and disappear into the drama of Project Runway or Glee. I start to breath again, and it helps the hours pass until I can put another day of waiting to bed.
Looking at myself from the outside, it doesn't seem that healthy. But it is what I can manage right now.
The cursor is blinking again. That is sort of what life feels like right now: staring at a blank screen, cursor expectantly blinking, waiting for the space to be filled with meaning.
Things are not nearly as bad as they were a year ago, when we were struggling for each breath. We are now fully functioning at work and on social dates and out and about in the world. But when the action stops, when the workdays finish, when the dates are done, a heaviness settles on us, and the weight of our unfulfilled dream presses the heart out of us.
Many, many unoccupied hours are spent in front of the TV; the desire to be taken out of ourselves is overwhelming and TV serves this purpose: a relatively benign narcotic. Like a junkie needing her fix, I can hardly wait to crawl back in from the improv rehearsal or the commercial audition and snuggle into my safe little spot on my yellow leather couch and disappear into the drama of Project Runway or Glee. I start to breath again, and it helps the hours pass until I can put another day of waiting to bed.
Looking at myself from the outside, it doesn't seem that healthy. But it is what I can manage right now.
The cursor is blinking again. That is sort of what life feels like right now: staring at a blank screen, cursor expectantly blinking, waiting for the space to be filled with meaning.
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