I’m trying to take a mental break from trying to figure the cycle stuff out. I don’t really have enough information to freak out and information is not (contrary to the way I have built my life) the key to success in any venture- this one in particular. So, I’m trying to talk myself off that ledge.
But its a place I am comfortable – facing misery head-on and seeking the beauty in its fringes. I worry that the extensive romanticizing of pain I did as an outcast adolescent set me up to crave and expect it. I have little to no concrete evidence that my life is somehow besmirched by tragedy – but you might not know it from the thoughts my brain sends pinging around back and forth. The groove is so well worn.
At 17, seeing my loneliness as beauty was a coping strategy that helped me survive to reach a space in which all the bullshit stopped mattering. At 17, no one would ever love me. At 17, no one would want to fuck me. At 17, no one understood me and that was probably for the best because I grew lovelier and lovelier in misunderstanding. Are you about to vomit, too?
My life is *good* now, y’all. I don’t say that for any other reason that to be so grateful for where I am – a place I legit thought I’d never see. I have found a love that surpasses everything I thought love could be. I have a job that pays me a living wage, that I really enjoy, surrounded by smart, funny, caring people – plus I can wear what I want and work a schedule that works for me. I live in a beautiful, if small, house with three charming and well behaved dogs. I have friends who show up in magnificent ways. We don’t make a lot of money but we have all of what we need and even some of what we want. There is a giant magical tree in my backyard, garden to grow, a box of worms turning my trash into earth.
And this is all a reminder. First and foremost that the universe does not have a vendetta against me (because the universe is not that petty, of course, but even if it were – I have no evidence to suggest that) but more so that I have beauty and kindness and wonder and if there are babies that share that and magnify it (and probably sometimes obscure it, too) – that will be lovely. And if there are not babies that come from my womb or La’s womb, there will be babies that come from somewhere else, or children, or both.
As myopic as I can be, I know that my happiness is not centered on getting pregnant or having a baby. AND, statistically speaking, I am probably gonna get knocked up in the next year and should shut.up.
But, if we do end up having a baby . . .there is now evidence to suggest that our babies will be super smart and well adjusted – and not just because we have excellent genes and are superior parents – but because we are GAY!
And look how adorable it is to be gay and FINALLY getting married in Washington State. I hope La and I grow up to be just like these guys! Except maybe no camo hats cause I’m not super into camoflauge prints.
There are great things right now – my co-workers with their swelling bellies and their 2-days-apart due dates; my current favorite babies, the Bee and the Bug, who smile when I come to see them and curl up into my chest when they are sleepy; the season of Advent and the hope that comes with it; and only one more cycle until this project goes from research to experimentation . . .