Panorama of San Bernardino

Friday, January 6, 2017

all I ever wanted

I've been on vacation the last couple of weeks. My goal was to write, write and write some more. But instead, I've been running around as usual filling my days with record stores and lunch with friends. And music. I've been listening to a ton of music. There is something to be said for this. Music has always been a salve for my soul and unleashes my creativity. I bought a new live Iggy Pop album where Bowie plays keyboards. I listened to it as soon as I got home. I played with my Sex Pistols figurines, another splurge, and danced and sang. I felt free.

Then I started thinking about childhood. About fun. About passing that down. Or the inability to pass it down. My husband and I been trying to have a child for almost ten years. Or maybe it's been nine. Regardless, a long fucking time. Too long. Too many false hopes. A miscarriage after IVF. And then the last two years.

The last two years have been hard. I am not the same person. I'm angry. Angry at God. Angry at my husband. Angry at the world. I have a ball of frustration inside of me. My back is always tight. My body feels like it's breaking down. Whether it's due to the miscarriage, my age, my overall hopelessness or mere coincidence, I don't know.

What I do know is this. I've changed. I haven't been able to write much. The childhood stories are blocked by something. The joy I used to feel when writing is gone. Poof. It feels like it's all too much.

I guess I'm stuck there. In that place between the hope I had when I found out I was pregnant and the day I was told there was no heartbeat. I didn't cry that day. Remembering back, I think I just felt numb. As if I already knew. That numbness is what I can't shake.

Where I go from here is the question that remains, a question I can't answer because I don't know.

How do you find peace in failure? Can there be peaceful resignation? Or maybe, just maybe, I should try again and risk the worst kind of heartbreak.

I know I seem as if I am wallowing. But somehow, I think that wallowing is what I need, to be in that place that I have been avoiding for so long. It's not a pretty place.

But to transcend that place, I need to try to live that pivotal loss of hope moment again.

So I can let it go.

1 comment:

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