It's a telling sign when a smile spontaneously springs to your lips. When thinking about someone so wonderful makes you break out into a grin you can't hide, can't put away. When you feel like you're living a Disney movie and it's only the middle of the day.
I couldn't have resisted any harder when my husband and I got together. I was adamant: "There's just no way I will ever be in a relationship again." I fought so hard not to fall in love with him, I commend him for having the heart to keep trying... and I'm forever grateful that he did.
I remember the first day I started to let myself begin to fall in love. I suddenly heard the birds chirping around me, felt the sun shining brighter, the flowers grow cheerier and the skies become bluer. I was living a technicolor rainbow of happiness that only grew more intense the more I felt myself relax into the arms of love.
For the longest time, every time I spoke about him, I would blush and break into a smile that I couldn't keep inside. I'd never had an experience like this - I didn't get giddy about guys, let alone the fact that I'd sworn them off indefinitely - and was certainly not used to people pointing out that I lit up like a Christmas tree at the mention of his name.
Whereas once upon a time, divorce had me worried that love could run out - as in, you're given only a certain amount of love and a certain amount of years with someone, and you'd better enjoy it while it lasts. But even after the years that have passed since we got together, I've been surprised and amazed to discover that's not the case at all.
How wondrous and amazing, in fact, that I've found love can grow in new ways every single day. That I can find something new to love him for, and somehow my heart grows that much bigger to fit it all in. The simplest things he does, or the sweet way he smiles, or the way he shows me his kind heart, makes me fall more in love. I didn't know it was possible--and I had no idea it would feel so good.
My friend recently told me that she could see a sparkle in my eyes when I thought about him. I love that, knowing that my love is so big, so all-consuming, it comes shining through. And for as much as I already love him, I can't wait to feel how much bigger it can become.
Thursday, December 9, 2010
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
If this was a movie, there would be an awfully spooky soundtrack.
In what may have been the eeriest Sixth Sense-type moment I've had in a while, my 3yo started talking to me while lying in bed, trying to fall asleep. "I'm sad...."
"Why?"
I'm sad because my sister died.... She told me she died and she's in Heaven. With all the other people who died--they're ghosts."
"Who?" I asked incredulously.
"My sister; she died before I was alive. I miss her. She was in your tummy before I was," she said. "She said her mother's name was Lisa. That's your name too."
I was sort of dumbfounded by the situation. Was she pretending? Making this up? Is a three year old even capable of creating a scenario like that? Does she have an imaginary friend, and if so, where did she come up with this dialogue? Was it something she saw in a book or movie? Should I be alarmed by this? Uhh...?
On the other hand, I also totally believe in the idea of spirits, ghosts, and energies. Aren't kids supposed to be more receptive to that type of thing? I think anything's possible. If she is communicating with past spirits, good for her.
Taking the "I'm kind of curious as to what she'll say next" route, I asked if her sister was happy in Heaven, and when she said yes, I told her that if her sister isn't sad, then she has nothing to be sad about.
She was quiet. Then she asked me when I would be getting another baby in my belly. I told her I wasn't sure.
As I watched her lying in bed, she said the sweetest words my heart could ever hear, "I'll pray for you," then after a moment, "Mommy, let's pray together."
In so many amazing ways, she is a blessing to me in every sense of the word.
"Why?"
I'm sad because my sister died.... She told me she died and she's in Heaven. With all the other people who died--they're ghosts."
"Who?" I asked incredulously.
"My sister; she died before I was alive. I miss her. She was in your tummy before I was," she said. "She said her mother's name was Lisa. That's your name too."
I was sort of dumbfounded by the situation. Was she pretending? Making this up? Is a three year old even capable of creating a scenario like that? Does she have an imaginary friend, and if so, where did she come up with this dialogue? Was it something she saw in a book or movie? Should I be alarmed by this? Uhh...?
On the other hand, I also totally believe in the idea of spirits, ghosts, and energies. Aren't kids supposed to be more receptive to that type of thing? I think anything's possible. If she is communicating with past spirits, good for her.
Taking the "I'm kind of curious as to what she'll say next" route, I asked if her sister was happy in Heaven, and when she said yes, I told her that if her sister isn't sad, then she has nothing to be sad about.
She was quiet. Then she asked me when I would be getting another baby in my belly. I told her I wasn't sure.
As I watched her lying in bed, she said the sweetest words my heart could ever hear, "I'll pray for you," then after a moment, "Mommy, let's pray together."
In so many amazing ways, she is a blessing to me in every sense of the word.
Monday, December 6, 2010
So, let me guess, you were born in the Year of the Entitled Wench.
In what may be the most anti-cilmactic end to a friendship, I finally texted a friend whom shall hereafter be known as Colossal Drama Queen, or CDQ for short. "So do you want to be friends anymore?" With nary a response in well over two weeks, I'm taking it for what I assumed it would be, and cutting her loose.
Oddly, I don't regret losing this friendship. It was a convoluted, unending cycle of madness with this girl, one that I don't want or need. This is definitely a "better loved and lost" situation--emphasis on the loss.
Someone who needed constant validation and reassurance, her demands on a friendship became too much for me. If I couldn't join her for some random something-or-other that she casually invited me to over text message, it became a personal offense. If I said, "I have other plans but I'll let you know if I can make it," (which to the other 99% of the population means "If you don't hear from me, I can't come"), she would lord it over me with a guilt trip and unspoken accusations of abandonment. "I never heard from you!"
Meeting up with this person became a calisthenic endurance exercise. I would literally sweat, worrying about being late, knowing she'd throw a fit and/or throw another marathon silent treatment (to which I'd amuse myself by pretending not to notice). This meant disobeying traffic laws and cursing at the top of my lungs to be on time, as she holds people to a higher standard than a high school tardy bell attendance policy.
There was the time we were shopping for bridesmaid dresses for her wedding. She said we could all ride together and would leave at 1pm. Arrive even a minute late, she threatened, and she'd leave without us. Another bridesmaid and I were so worn out by her demands, we said we'd ride separately. We just didn't need to worry about busting our asses to get there and be chewed out if the clock said 1:01.
You'd think we took the smarter, drama-free route by meeting her there. You'd be wrong.
She told us we weren't real friends if we weren't riding with her. Said her fiance couldn't believe we were riding separately either. Then she berated us. Threatened us not to be late for her fitting. Was essentially ready to throw in the towel on our friendship because we had the nerve to take another car.
We drove well over the speed limit, checking Google maps' traffic to make sure we took the fastest route. We got there a good 10 minutes before her fitting was scheduled. She showed up... 20 minutes later. No apology, no remorse, just a weak excuse about traffic.
Had the tables been turned, we would have endured the fiery wrath of the Princess Bride. Instead, we're expected to blow it off because she feels entitled.
As angry as she makes me, there's a compassionate part of my nature that thinks this girl has been so cast out and rejected by others in her life, she's retaliating against the whole world for it. 'Reject them before they can reject you' out of self-preservation. But as a one-sided fair-weather friend, who did anything but act like one, I'd had enough of her. You can't give all the time.
Her actual wedding was the final straw for me. She berated me for my flight time (of which I was taking unpaid leave from work to fly out), not RSVPing for a bachelorette party I wasn't even invivted to, and a whole bunch of other nonsense such as, "You never responded to my text that your bridesmaid dress was ready for pick-up!" She had me so stressed out about attending every last, little thing she demanded, I was ready to skip it, nevermind the thousand-plus dollars I'd invested in the trip. Then, when she was not only late to her own rehearsal (which I went through hell and earth, a 6am wake-up call, and a whole bunch of public transit rides to arrive on time for), but also to her wedding (leaving me and the other on-timers out in the frigid weather for 90 minutes), no apology, of course, I was livid. There's a lot of words that come to mind, but insensitive and self-centered immediately spring to mind. Hypocritical bitch isn't far behind.
Post-wedding, she was giving her usual stony-silent treatment for whatever insignificant reason or other. She ignored me and wouldn't respond to my invites to hang out (nevermind that the reciprocate would be met with death threats) until the day she needed a favor. Then she bugged me (and my husband) all day long. At that point, I'd had it. "You can hang out with other friends for fun, but as soon as you need something, you call me? Uh-uh. Not anymore."
I called her to straighten out the situation--she ignored my calls. Then she texted back that she was hanging out with some other friends because she "hadn't heard from me." A line so typical, if she was a doll with a pull cord, that would be her catch phrase. At that final breaking point, I sent her the aforementioned "So do you want to be friends anymore?" text message and haven't spoken to her since.
Laying it all out, I ask myself what took so long to cut her loose. Sure, we used to have fun - drama aside, she's an entertaining, witty person with a big heart. But it's so taxing going through endless rotations of annoyance - I've gone through this with her. I know what happens. I know it won't be long until it happens again.
It's just not my duty or obligation to put up with a shell of a friendship. As I put a lock on that area of my life, I tell myself I'll save my time for someone better.
Oddly, I don't regret losing this friendship. It was a convoluted, unending cycle of madness with this girl, one that I don't want or need. This is definitely a "better loved and lost" situation--emphasis on the loss.
Someone who needed constant validation and reassurance, her demands on a friendship became too much for me. If I couldn't join her for some random something-or-other that she casually invited me to over text message, it became a personal offense. If I said, "I have other plans but I'll let you know if I can make it," (which to the other 99% of the population means "If you don't hear from me, I can't come"), she would lord it over me with a guilt trip and unspoken accusations of abandonment. "I never heard from you!"
Meeting up with this person became a calisthenic endurance exercise. I would literally sweat, worrying about being late, knowing she'd throw a fit and/or throw another marathon silent treatment (to which I'd amuse myself by pretending not to notice). This meant disobeying traffic laws and cursing at the top of my lungs to be on time, as she holds people to a higher standard than a high school tardy bell attendance policy.
There was the time we were shopping for bridesmaid dresses for her wedding. She said we could all ride together and would leave at 1pm. Arrive even a minute late, she threatened, and she'd leave without us. Another bridesmaid and I were so worn out by her demands, we said we'd ride separately. We just didn't need to worry about busting our asses to get there and be chewed out if the clock said 1:01.
You'd think we took the smarter, drama-free route by meeting her there. You'd be wrong.
She told us we weren't real friends if we weren't riding with her. Said her fiance couldn't believe we were riding separately either. Then she berated us. Threatened us not to be late for her fitting. Was essentially ready to throw in the towel on our friendship because we had the nerve to take another car.
We drove well over the speed limit, checking Google maps' traffic to make sure we took the fastest route. We got there a good 10 minutes before her fitting was scheduled. She showed up... 20 minutes later. No apology, no remorse, just a weak excuse about traffic.
Had the tables been turned, we would have endured the fiery wrath of the Princess Bride. Instead, we're expected to blow it off because she feels entitled.
As angry as she makes me, there's a compassionate part of my nature that thinks this girl has been so cast out and rejected by others in her life, she's retaliating against the whole world for it. 'Reject them before they can reject you' out of self-preservation. But as a one-sided fair-weather friend, who did anything but act like one, I'd had enough of her. You can't give all the time.
Her actual wedding was the final straw for me. She berated me for my flight time (of which I was taking unpaid leave from work to fly out), not RSVPing for a bachelorette party I wasn't even invivted to, and a whole bunch of other nonsense such as, "You never responded to my text that your bridesmaid dress was ready for pick-up!" She had me so stressed out about attending every last, little thing she demanded, I was ready to skip it, nevermind the thousand-plus dollars I'd invested in the trip. Then, when she was not only late to her own rehearsal (which I went through hell and earth, a 6am wake-up call, and a whole bunch of public transit rides to arrive on time for), but also to her wedding (leaving me and the other on-timers out in the frigid weather for 90 minutes), no apology, of course, I was livid. There's a lot of words that come to mind, but insensitive and self-centered immediately spring to mind. Hypocritical bitch isn't far behind.
Post-wedding, she was giving her usual stony-silent treatment for whatever insignificant reason or other. She ignored me and wouldn't respond to my invites to hang out (nevermind that the reciprocate would be met with death threats) until the day she needed a favor. Then she bugged me (and my husband) all day long. At that point, I'd had it. "You can hang out with other friends for fun, but as soon as you need something, you call me? Uh-uh. Not anymore."
I called her to straighten out the situation--she ignored my calls. Then she texted back that she was hanging out with some other friends because she "hadn't heard from me." A line so typical, if she was a doll with a pull cord, that would be her catch phrase. At that final breaking point, I sent her the aforementioned "So do you want to be friends anymore?" text message and haven't spoken to her since.
Laying it all out, I ask myself what took so long to cut her loose. Sure, we used to have fun - drama aside, she's an entertaining, witty person with a big heart. But it's so taxing going through endless rotations of annoyance - I've gone through this with her. I know what happens. I know it won't be long until it happens again.
It's just not my duty or obligation to put up with a shell of a friendship. As I put a lock on that area of my life, I tell myself I'll save my time for someone better.
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
"Surely, she bathes! Let's buy body wash!"
If there's one thing I can't stand at Christmas, it's being forced to buy obligatory gifts for people I barely know and certainly know nothing about.
It's not the money that's an issue, it's the time investment. It's the fact that I'm dragging myself from store to store in a vain attempt to please someone whom I haven't called or hung out with since the previous Christmas. The fact that, really, I have no idea if they'll appreciate it beyond the gift-giving gesture, and the fact that I'm stressing myself unnecessarily when I have much better things to think about.
It's not the money that's an issue, it's the time investment. It's the fact that I'm dragging myself from store to store in a vain attempt to please someone whom I haven't called or hung out with since the previous Christmas. The fact that, really, I have no idea if they'll appreciate it beyond the gift-giving gesture, and the fact that I'm stressing myself unnecessarily when I have much better things to think about.
I find myself locked into an endless mental repertoire as the minutes tick by: What do they like? What do they wear? Is this too cheesy? Do they already have this? Am I the only one who thinks this is cute? Is this going to be relegated to the junk drawer or re-gifted to some unsuspecting recipient?
I suspect retailers like L'Occitane stay in business over quandaries like this. When was the last time you thought, "I really need some fruity-smelling lotion and coordinating body wash!" Chances are, never. Why? Because of the stockpile in your bathroom closet, a trove of sweet pea and lilac-scented gifts from Christmases past. Gifts from people who don't know anything about you, so they resort to the lowest common denominator - "Surely, she bathes! Let's buy body wash!"
If only gift-giving etiquette allowed for a ceasefire of sorts. "Don't get anything for me, I won't get anything for you." Time saved, stress saved, and a whole lot less lotion and bath products on the horizon.
Caught between a blog and a hard place.
In a self-exercise better left to those who obsess about personal "branding," I have just spent roughly the past, oh, four hours linking my Twitter account to my blog and coming up with clever means of self-promotion.
This futile effort is stymied, of course, by my desire for complete anonymity. I don't want people to know who I am - I just want them to read what I write... and like it.
This futile effort is stymied, of course, by my desire for complete anonymity. I don't want people to know who I am - I just want them to read what I write... and like it.
Inadequacy and insecurity
If you were to create a Movie of the Week about the current state of my life, it would be titled something like "Ultimate FAIL: The Chronicles of the Trying-to-Conceive."
I used to blithely claim that I'd start thinking about kids when I was 30. "For now, I just want to make money and invest in my career." What I'd give for that same arrogance now.
While it seems easy enough to just turn on the ability to pop out a kid at will, the sad truth is that it just doesn't happen like that. Not for me, anyway. Now that I'm at the threshold of 30, with one magnificent kiddo in my life and the desire for many, many more running through my mind, I wish I could just snap my fingers and be pregnant. Get on the Pill, get off the Pill, and poof! After all, everyone else makes it look so easy.
Instead, I'm sifting through my year-plus recollection of failed attempts and lost pregnancies and struggling on a regular basis not to break down and cry about what could have been.
At my high points, I remind myself, "It'll happen." At my low points, I abandon all hope and cry myself to sleep. I've gone through the hopeful stage ("Is this the month?!"), the gratitude ("At least I have one."), the bitterness ("It's not fair!"), the envy ("I want one too!"), the superiority ("I'm a better mother than you could ever hope to be - why do you get to keep popping out children?"), the prayers and bargaining with God, and the eventual realization that maybe it's time to start considering other options.
Part of me - the rational part - knows I'm still young and I can't give in to the negative thoughts. After all... it could happen. It will happen. Right?
The other part of me stares at a stack of medical records thick enough to start a campfire and hears the layers of insurmountable diagnoses running through my head. "Recurrent pregnancy loss... polycystic ovaries... endometriosis... ovarian and fallopian cysts..."
Ambivalence was so much easier when I didn't even know whether I wanted kids. Now, at times, my desire for a baby outweighs any other thought in my head.
I used to blithely claim that I'd start thinking about kids when I was 30. "For now, I just want to make money and invest in my career." What I'd give for that same arrogance now.
While it seems easy enough to just turn on the ability to pop out a kid at will, the sad truth is that it just doesn't happen like that. Not for me, anyway. Now that I'm at the threshold of 30, with one magnificent kiddo in my life and the desire for many, many more running through my mind, I wish I could just snap my fingers and be pregnant. Get on the Pill, get off the Pill, and poof! After all, everyone else makes it look so easy.
Instead, I'm sifting through my year-plus recollection of failed attempts and lost pregnancies and struggling on a regular basis not to break down and cry about what could have been.
At my high points, I remind myself, "It'll happen." At my low points, I abandon all hope and cry myself to sleep. I've gone through the hopeful stage ("Is this the month?!"), the gratitude ("At least I have one."), the bitterness ("It's not fair!"), the envy ("I want one too!"), the superiority ("I'm a better mother than you could ever hope to be - why do you get to keep popping out children?"), the prayers and bargaining with God, and the eventual realization that maybe it's time to start considering other options.
Part of me - the rational part - knows I'm still young and I can't give in to the negative thoughts. After all... it could happen. It will happen. Right?
The other part of me stares at a stack of medical records thick enough to start a campfire and hears the layers of insurmountable diagnoses running through my head. "Recurrent pregnancy loss... polycystic ovaries... endometriosis... ovarian and fallopian cysts..."
Ambivalence was so much easier when I didn't even know whether I wanted kids. Now, at times, my desire for a baby outweighs any other thought in my head.
Fast-forward into the future
It has been so long that I posted to this blog, I nearly forgot it existed, along with my desire to write. Whereas I was a once (if not more) a day blogger, my time and desire to write suddenly dropped off a cliff, taking with it my most beloved creative outlet and form of stress relief.
Lately though, I've been back in the mood to write and I want to share it with anyone who will listen, if only because it makes the ranting in my own head seem quieter when I let it out.
So picking up where I left off - and zipping ahead about three years into an entirely new place and time in my life - let's begin...
Lately though, I've been back in the mood to write and I want to share it with anyone who will listen, if only because it makes the ranting in my own head seem quieter when I let it out.
So picking up where I left off - and zipping ahead about three years into an entirely new place and time in my life - let's begin...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)