Butterfly

I’m feeling bad today. Well, not that bad, just a general low--like a low grade fever, not the full blown flu. It’s not even bad enough to mention. Except it is, because it’s been lingering for days now, and i don’t know how to shake it off. I’m so out of sorts but i don’t know why or what’s bothering me. But there it is.

And so it is. It feels good to at least say that I’m bothered. I spent the day yesterday with a friend. It was actually very pleasant. So nice to get out and get to talk to people. I miss that--talking to people who sound interested in what i’m saying. I've been too busy for that.

Beyond that, I’m not sure. I cant say that this is a funk per se. Or maybe i’m just managing my funk better. I cleaned the house, and i could never do that during a funk before. In fact, I’m amazed at how much better i feel about having a clean house. Don’t get me wrong, i’ve had a clean house before ;) But now i can actually feel the joy in having a clean house.

Here’s the thing. I think that we’re going to have this procedure done at the end of the month (January 27) and we’re going to find out that there is hope (or not) but then we’ll move onto to the ivf rollercoaster and spin around on it for a decade or until we puke our guts out, whichever comes first.

But it’s like what everyone else has been talking about lately ... how do you get over this desire, feeling, want, (obsession, if you will) to conceive?

I guess that’s the matter for me. It’s like an obsession. An addiction. It’s so much easier to think about this very happy safe topic. I’ve found so much joy and comfort in it over the years. And, i kind of miss it. I’ve been lonely. I haven’t replaced it yet.

And i have the perfect replacement for it … my novel (YAAAAAAAAAWN). But it’s true. It’s the perfect channel for the same creative energies i’ve been dreaming of pouring into childbearing and rearing.

But i’m scared. I don’t know why. I don’t understand it. I just am. The creative process can be so intense and so dull, so exciting and so boring, so exhilarating and so scary, so satisfying and so depressing. I find the negative side to the creative process difficult to manage--scary. Why? I don’t know. But i just do. And so it’s soooo much easier to fantasize about babymaking because for all its ups and downs, i’m still in “control” --or so my dumbass, conscious self deigns to believe. At least, i’m in control of how and when i get disappointed. It’s precisely once a month, the same time every month, and in the same manner. It’s so much easier to face that kind of disappointment, then the daunting disappointment of REJECTION, as in “Thank you for your submission, but your manuscript SUCKS.” Ok, they don’t actually say that, but i know what they mean, i can read between the lines.

And well, you see, i have an issue with rejection. I really cant stand it. Really, really cant. It does go back to my childhood somehow (YAAAAAAAAAWN).

Oh, and then there’s the off chance that I might actually get what i want. Then i’d really be screwed. I don’t know what that’s like. I’d have no idea how to take that. In fact that’s scarier. I think i’ll dissipate into air and float away. I will be lost. The struggle to get what i cant have has contained me for so long. It’s like i need that container to survive. And so, on some level, i keep myself in it, safe within my walls where i understand the rules and the expectations and i control the disappointment. Happiness? Who needs that when i’ve got my fingers on disappointment.

Ever notice how often we just settle for no pain rather than take a chance on happiness?

And now i'm conscious of the fact that i'm about to emerge from my container but i'm fighting it. I dont know how to be without that which has defined me for so long. Right now, it's very uncomfortable and awkward. I want to go huddle in a corner--but i cant do that or i will end up recreating the same obstacles for myself that keep me in a constant feedback loop of disappointment--safe and unhappy.

Upon exiting my cocoon, i find myself teetering on the edge of a cliff, wobbling with the infirmity of unused limbs. And my first reaction is that i will need help and be rejected.

But i wont be rejected because there's no one around this time to do the rejecting. Instead, i find that this time when i fall, all i need to do is to remember not to curl up into a ball but to remember to spread my wings.