however, the truth continues to set me free, and my mother will hug my love tomorrow. such relief.
i am growing a bigger heart, a la the grinch. recently, something monumental has shifted in my bananie-centered worldview: the desire and confidence to be a mother. (yes, this is still me talking.)
i noticed it around the time i turned twentyseven last year: my uterus began to ache for a baby.
this may not seem strange to most women out there, but it was a phenomenon of epic proportions for a girl like me, who has never once had a maternal itch, let alone craving. i've always enjoyed kids--other people kids, the kind you can send home with their parents. i've always been too self-centered to even consider parenthood. from a very young age, i resigned myself to the fact that i would be one of those unentangled women who never married, never had kids, and would probably have an abundance of cats. i was okay with this scenario; i really was.
and then someone wound my biological clock. i've settled into contented domesticity with my helen, and we're building a home together. we are our own little family of girls and pets, and although i am very happy with the current setup, there is a nagging underneath to be a mother.
i don't necessarily want to birth a child, although i think it would be an incredible experience. helen and i have talked at length about it all, and have come to a resolute agreement that we, as comparatively wealthy human beings (ie americans), have the resources to take care of another human being who needs us. what more noble gospel is there in any religion than the charge to care for the orphan and the widow?
and so, we have seriously begun to consider adopting a child together.
we have even taken the first steps in the process.
it's a daunting experience, this adoption thing, and not for the impatient, or weak-hearted. but we're trudging forward every day, asking really important questions of each other and ourselves, and we grow more excited every day that all of this wondering and hoping and paperwork is going to result in a child.
i'm out of time for blogging now; there will definitely be updates soon. for now, will you all hold us up as we brave the murky and beautiful waters ahead?
good evening friends, from a quiet bed in a darkened room. i am thankful to say i made it through an 11 hour workday without walking out, and without passing out. both are gifts.
as i hinted earlier, i've not been in the best of health recently. my kidneys are determined to cause trouble, but armed with the weapons of insurance, i am fighting back with wonderful antibiotics that make me want to throw up. meanwhile, my mouth is healing from the monumental fun of that root canal i had the other day. there really is nothing quite like staring up at a ceiling full of ads for crest whitening strips, as a dentist shoves metal files up your gums, while the dental hygienist hums offkey to the music of maroon 5 playing on the overhead speakers. it's a joy unspeakable, really. but then they write you a prescription for vicodin, and all is well in your swollen little world.
so. that's it, really. that's the whole of 2006 thus far. giving my body a much-needed tuneup (with vision tests and pap smears to soon follow), and trying to make sense of the increasingly soulless call center life.
we were meant to live for so much more, remember?
i do feel like i've lost myself a bit this past year. twothousandfive was a year of massive catch up. i moved to austin, and attempted a career in hr, which turned out poorly. helen and i started a little life together, which began with the bang of her grandmothers' deaths and then a frightening accident. we've been catching up since. physically, emotionally, spiritually.
i've struggled to find likeminded community here in austin, but for being such an openminded town, hearts are guarded and social circles are tight. i've made some wonderful friends, but the ache for home, for community, is still looming large in my heart.
as i type tonight, we're wondering about our future. the existential "what next". helen and i talk in the language of big dreams; we could move north, and be near my family! we could move to canada, and legally be married! we could move back to nashville, the home i am so very much missing! we could move to california, where all my friends seem to be relocating!
see? there are options. but we're both working shit jobs at the moment, trying to figure out what on earth we could do for money that would actually enrich our souls, instead of sucking the life out of them.
i want to write, but the words elude me.
i feel like i don't even know how to do it anymore.
it's depression, i know. (psychiatrist is also on the insurance to-do list.)
it's a crisis of faith, as i'm still licking some deep, unhealed wounds.
i really have no other new years resolution than to find a way to live again. i would love nothing more than some deep and long breaths, and a renewed belief in julian of norwich's mantra: all is well.
happy belated new year.
more rumination on 2006 and all its newness and root canals are forthcoming, but for now, this article from salon ahs been the bright spot of my day.
[note: if you don't subscribe to salon, you'll have to sit through a little ad before you get the full text. but it's worth it.]