Sense of self

 

 

So after that last post, where it was mostly just brain vomit...

I started sitting and reflecting on who I am now.

 

I really think I have shook the label of infertile as my FIRST descriptor of self.

In fact, it feels like it has shifted pretty far down the list of identifiers.

Does that mean that I don't still ache so deeply for the babies I am not watching grow up?

Does that mean that I still don't think about how my body didn't do what it was suppose to do?

Nope.

Everyday it enters me mind, but I think my relationship with those events

are in a different place now.

They are not forgotten but more like interned,

almost as though, I have allowed them to lay to rest;

transcend this earthly plane and ascend to a new level of conscience.

Does that make any sense?

 

I am seeing signs of it regularly now.

I look at babies again, and smile at them, because they are funny and drooly.

I am not angry when I see a pregnant woman,

but wonder how long she tried for and how scared she might be at this new road in her life.

I mentioned to my yoga teacher that I couldn't do some poses because of my endo, but I mentioned it in such a casual way, you'd think I had said I couldn't because of a head cold or something.

I am thinking about how to make memories with my niece and nephew as a way for them to remember me, not act out re-imagined situations I might have had with my own children.

 

It is strangely liberating, and slightly sorrowful.

I am growing

That is my best guess at this

 

I spend a lot of time alone, whether in the studio working, or just being me. 

I reflect on strange things like:

Where do the city raccoons live that eat out of the city garbage cans?

Why do some finger nails grow faster than others?

Why are some people afraid of quiet?

What can I do to be more focused?

How would I feel if I applied and got a residency abroad?

Why does cheese seduce me so...

 

Being alone and quiet a good portion of the day, makes me realize that it is indeed a gift.

Although I would have loved a home full of boys (that is what I always imagined)

I question if I could have been who I am if I had that too.

I am suppose to make art, but would I have still stayed on this path with a baby?

I am finding that I am seeing this now, as a sort of re-gift.

I was denied so much for sooooo many years, and so many more ahead of me.

I guess I am justifying what I have now as a new beginning, or gift.

Maybe I am simply making a lemon drop from a bushel of lemons...

but that seems to be my mindset these days.