Well, guess who is sick now?
Naturally. And, if the gallons of drool are any indication, also cutting some mean molars. So we’re dealing with a poor little boy who’s got blotches of eczema all over his head, a gnarly teething rash on his chin and cheeks, a chapped upper lip from momma constantly wiping off the insane amounts of snot that he sneezes out about once every 10 minutes. And drool. More drool that you can even imagine. Itchy, watery eyes, a sad little cough and yet? He is still in decent (all things considered) spirits, which is more than we can say for his mother.
When I was pregnant, I had the strangest food aversion…it wasn’t really so much an aversion as just a total lack of appetite. I didn’t feel sick, and I still felt hunger, I just didn’t want to eat. I mean, it didn’t stop me from eating…have you met me? But I ran through the entire list of the world’s foods in my head and not a single one of them made me feel all “oh YES! I want that!”. Not even Chipotle. And that is pregnant lady blasphemy. Obviously, I still managed to gain an ungodly amount of weight that I can’t find the motivation to lose, but that’s another story for another time….
The reason I am bringing this up when it is sort of random and out of the blue is because I was thinking just now about how I feel emotionally lately. I thought I was doing a lot better on the meds and the therapy, but in the last couple of weeks, I sort of feel like I am regressing, and it’s twice as disheartening as it was before because now my head is saying “god, you’re medicated and you’re still fucked up. Might as well throw in the towel.” So the closet thing I could think of to explain how my soul is feeling these days was to compare how I felt about food while I was pregnant. I don’t know, it made sense in my head, but now I am realizing it’s kind of a bizarre comparison. The connection in my head lies somewhere with the idea of being empty, but feeling totally apathetic about filling the void.
I feel trapped. And I feel sad. And I feel angry. And I feel resentful of other peoples’ accomplishments and happiness and I hate that because that is not who I am in my heart, but I feel like I am locked in this cage and the key is lost, or if it’s not lost, I sure as shit don’t have access to it. I don’t do well with being trapped. I never have. All my life, the more trapped I’ve been, the meaner I felt and the more desperate I got to run away, and right now, I feel just as trapped, if not more so, than I have ever felt, except the difference is that this time, I can’t run away because I have a little boy who needs me, and I need him, because he is the LOVE of my life….I just….I just don’t know what to do.
I just subscribed to this blog this morning that it seems like I am the last person on earth to discover and it is amazing and inspiring and it is everything I wish I could live. It is the perfect picture of what my heart is meant to feel. I know that. And I want it so desperately. And I am so in awe of this woman and her beautiful girls and her family and her outlook and I KNOW that happiness was hard won for them and they are fighting battles that I will never even glimpse and here I am, whining and crying like an asshole….I read this and I think how dare I? But there is a disconnect in my head between what she is prescribing and what I am able to put into action right now in my life and I am so resentful of that. I hate myself for not being able to read her words and see her pictures and just say “YES!!! This is how I am going to live it!” and from that moment on, just do it! And have life immediately turn from these colorless frames of blur to vibrant, sharp, consecutive moments of glee. I just can’t figure out how to do that when I am trapped in this tiny, cold, metal cage with no room to spread my wings and no key.