Wednesday, July 20, 2011
But the past year has me feeling helpless and as if my life is out of my control. This is such a foreign place for me that to say that I feel lost would be treating it with kid gloves. There are frustrations with life that I just cannot fix on my own; I cannot put in enough elbow grease to shine up the situation.
I woke up this morning with the word "Can't" reverberating through my mind. That word and I are not friends, and we never have been. I do not identify with it, I do not empathize with it, I do not comiserate with it. But this morning, I feel as if there are a million of billboards screaming at me from within my own bedroom: Can't clear up your skin! Can't get married! Can't afford things! Can't fit into your jeans! Can't have babies!
That last one makes me pause. It makes me gasp if I dwell on it for more than a few seconds. It's not referring to a physical inability to have children, but my inability to have them now. And with each passing day, my body ages toward a point where physical inability becomes a very real enemy, lurking from within.
There aren't many things in this life that I can say without an ounce of doubt that I am good at. But, I have always known - from the depths of my being - that I will be a good mother. When I feel insecure with my career or filled with doubts in other areas, I ache to devote my energies toward something where I know I will thrive. And it always goes back to one, unshaking thought: Motherhood.
I am aware enough to know that things can be done to help fix my world of "Can't." Enough creativity and enough trying will resolve most anything. I need to return to that place of creativity and effort. Because I know me - feeling lost and helpless isn't something I tolerate for long. Like a gypsy, I feel the pulls of change in the wind, and there's no keeping me still once I feel those whispers across my skin.