stream of consciousness

letha's neighborhood, canon digital rebel xt

I am tied up with emotions inside. Like the branches in the tree above, my feelings want to stretch as far to the sky as they can within their darkness but mine feel tangled and bound to the ground, unable to move. I have felt like this for a few days. So inside myself. Unable to express all that is transpiring within me. I am craving quiet. Calm. Wide open spaces. The corner of a room, hunched over, alone. Such a contradiction. I don't even know what I need. I could attribute this to hormones. Is it my cycle approaching or is it another life nestling itself in my womb absorbing all that I am? I worry it is not the later. It is always the cycle...but the baby is coming soon. I feel it. I get so attached to the thought of it and I grieve each month it is not here. My feelings were hurt by a comment the other day. A comment that I know was not intentionally hurtful. Telling me that my story makes her never want to try too hard to have a baby. I never wanted to try too hard either. I still don't want to have to. But when you want this so badly, something primal takes over and nothing can get in the way of it. Nothing. I cannot help this desire and I try all that I can to focus on the other beautiful aspects of my life. I think I do a pretty good job of it. I try my hardest to be positive, hopeful, to look forward and believe. But then there are a few days out of the month that I let go and allow myself to be sad, to feel hurt, scared and uncertain. Please be patient with these days. I always feel the lessons in them and I never let them consume me for too long. My loved ones ask me how my fertility stuff is going. Sometimes that feels like a constant reminder. I want to tell them "no news is bad news" but I don't want them to feel left out. I understand their need to know. They are almost as attached to the outcome as we are. I get that. But when I end up having a conversation about it, a few hours later I feel myself fall into a depression. To hear myself explain my journey out loud sometimes alters me. Am I talking about me? Yes, I am. Reality hits me in the face...over and over. Today I find myself starring at my computer. So many things flood into my mind that I am needing to do. Go downtown to capture some urban photographs, write in your journal, organize your studio, take a shower, plan dinner, buy some cat food, design a necklace, curl your hair. But I sit here motionless unable to do any of those things. I cry with my feet up on my desk and my head in my hands. Damn hormones. I feel lonely. I need my tribe. They need me and they all live so far, far away. I just need to be silent with them. To cuddle up on a bed to watch a film and be silent. I don't need conversation. I don't like to attract drama. I shy away from drama. I leave that to play in my head and then watch it fall away when the peace washes over. I don't need anyone else to be part of that. It's an alone thing for me. As much as I share here, I do consider some part of my life sacred. My family is one of them. Mark, my nephew is going through so much but I am grateful he is alive, has all his limbs and will be able to walk and breathe on his own. I know he wouldn't want me to be sad for him, so I am not. I am hopeful and proud and grateful for his miracle. He needs me to be this way. He feels it and it gives him strength. We have that connection. That is all I will share. The rest is so sacred and he is a private person as well. I respect that. I feel restless. I cannot focus on one thing. I find myself snapping at my husband when he comes home when he is the one that loves me most unselfishly. I know he feels the grief each month, yet he holds us together. I want to hold him together too. I have no idea if I do this for him. I see the tears in his eyes every once in awhile but I never see them fall. He holds them in the deep well within his soul. Mine just spill freely from my own deep well within.

This stream of consciousness feels good. This stream of feelings. They were tucked away, held tight into my chest and now they are brave enough to peek through. I need to write more later after I take a shower. A brave girl I met once does this all the time. Now I know why.