Honestly and truly I hate to be a Debbie Downer. I’m a glass is half full, it’s always darkest before the dawn, when life gives you lemons make lemonade kinda gal who believes that there is good in everyone and I do not understand why, when I look out the window, I don’t regularly see rainbows and puppy dogs on pink fluffy cotton candy clouds. I’ve been known to irritate the crap out of people with my ability to put a positive spin on things. I can be an annoying cheerleader. Yes, I can be “that girl”.
What’s the catch? There’s always a catch!
When I get into a funk I go deep, deep down the rabbit hole. A negativity K-hole of sorts. I am the queen of masturbatory mind-fuckery! What keeps me down is that I tend to get upset that I’m upset. THEN I get even more upset that I realize that being upset is making me so upset. It’s a crazy vicious cycle that can be difficult for me to snap out of.
Why do I bring this up? I’ve been in such a funk as of late and the worst of it came around Mother’s Day.
So, let’s travel back a few years…shall we? On paper I had it all! A great job with an awesome team which felt more like family than co-workers, I had a lovely house, a reliable vehicle, a fantastic group of friends (both local and in the podcasting community) and a husband who had just gotten a promotion. The only thing missing was a little one. I did everything that I could think of to get ye olde bod ready for the stresses of pregnancy. I took vitamins, changed to an all organic diet, exercised, charted my cycle and so on and so forth. Not before too long all signs pointed to the fact that I was indeed going to be a mom. Well, all physical signs pointed to that fact. As for the pee sticks…not so much. It was crazy to me to conceive of the fact that I had not conceived! Missed period? CHECK! Swollen, sore breasts? DOUBLE CHECK! Nausea? OH HELLS YEAH! Hypersensitive to smells? UH HUH! The dozen EPTs that I defiled had to have been liars. I must have gotten a bad batch! Yeah..well…errrr…um…NOPE! My body was the big fat liar. Something something something false pregnancy. Something something something my body was rebooting itself. Something something something I could be unable to ever bear a child of my own.
Jump ahead to January 2012. Care to join me? It had been determined that a divorce was imminent. I had started making my arrangements for a move out & on with my life. Instead of living in the whole house I was reduced to living out of one room just like I did when I was a teenager back at my parent’s house on Summer break. During a heated discussion with my now ex-husband, one evening, while I was in the kitchen making myself a quick dinner before heading back up to said room it was implied that it was his idea for the baby making to fail. I was far too childish, irresponsible, flighty and selfish to be a mother. He was happy that we never had a child. I can still hear the words and tone in his voice. I can feel the cool black, kitchen tile under my feet. I can feel the sharp corner of the kitchen counter pressing into the small of my back as I stumbled back into it from the shock of those words. It wasn’t his choice! I was broken and that was the nail in the coffin of our marriage and any hopes of a friendship after the split.
Here we are in May of the following year. HOORAY? I guess. I’ve been called brave because I put on my big girl panties and got out of a shitty situation. I’m starting to discover who I am as a person and living my life. It hasn’t been as easy peasy lemon squeezy as I had hoped and I have yet to twirl in the street as I toss my rather smart beret into the air ala Mary Tyler Moore. Regardless, I’m in a better place than where I was and I’ve quickly learned who my true friends are. You are like family to me and I cannot even fathom where I’d be without you and your support. That doesn’t make Mother’s Day any easier for me though. That holiday is a constant reminder of what I don’t have. I had to work the weekend so being a mere 5 hours away from my own Mother was frustrating as hell! It also sucked BIG TIME that was also unable to spend any time with any of my fantastic friends, their own mothers and children who have welcomed me into their families over the years. But for me, the worst of it all is that I just turned 40 and I do not have a family to call my own. No precious offspring with a wacky sense of humor and infectious laugh. No wide-eyed little one to share this amazingly awesome wondrous world with. I never, in a million jillion years thought that at this stage of my life I would find myself utterly and completely alone.