Monday, May 14, 2007

So ...

I wrote a long post today about feeling helpless, about how I felt that time was passing me by in a blur, and I couldn't find a way of holding on to it or making it last longer.

I do not think I am coping with my thirties well.

The post also included an account of how I bawled my eyes out while driving on the freeway. This is the best time to do it, by the way, because no one will find you or see you, and you can release your frustration at top volume without anyone hearing.

I didn't, however, talk about the events that led to this state of mind, and the only thing I will say here is that they involved a conversation I had on Saturday morning, and a Mother's Day present of a second freaking budgie to someone's mother (not mine) from some other people. A previous, possibly related, budgie story can be found here, in case you need to catch up.

I must be the only person in the world who could be made upset by the (no doubt) thoughtful gift of a stupid bird to someone else.

I decided not to put that post up. In fact, I've deleted it already. It's not productive nor uplifting. Well, neither is the rest of this post, probably, but what I had to say didn't really need to be said, and I shouldn't wallow in it any more.

I haven't felt this kind of sadness since my dog died. January 12th, 2004. It's the kind of sadness that keeps welling up at inappropriate moments. You start talking about something that's comes a little too close to the bone, to the topic you've been trying to avoid, and unwelcome tears well up in your eyes. But I haven't lost anything, and nothing's died.

I've just had a two hour conversation with my sister on the phone, and I feel a lot better. More like an angry demon than the crying banshee-hosebeast that I was a few hours ago.

I prefer anger because I find it productive. My anger is not the sort that yells at people directly, or smashes things. It's an internal anger that frequently rails at the sky with fists shaking, true, but it is also a cleansing flame that makes me spring into action. Sometimes I feel invincible when I'm angry, like I'm surrounded with armour and mounted on a horse charging towards the battlefield.

Much better than lying on the bathroom floor reciting my sorrows to myself and watching the hours fly past in a fug of self-pity.

So, sadness, out. Anger, in.

Let's get moving.

***Warning: the next few paragraphs may contain swearing of the F-variety. I'm sorry, I know I've been doing it a lot lately***

First and most importantly of all, I would like to say a gigantic FUCK YOU to every pompous doctor who has ever told women to have children "before it's too late".

They are clearly assuming that every woman they are saying this to is in a stable, married (of course) relationship, financially and emotionally ready for children, and simply delaying it because they have their heart set on a new plasma TV or that house by the sea or a promotion to vice-president.

FUCK YOU, you pompous asses, and FUCK YOU TOO, Sylvia Ann Hewlett, author of Baby Hunger, who told us that we should plan our lives, find a partner, and have children before 35, when our fertility "drops off a cliff".

OK, that's probably enough F-words for tonight. I won't hurt your eyes with any more.

For goodness' sake, I don't even know what I'm going to have for dinner tomorrow night, let alone how to plan my life around finding a partner and having a child.

I'm not even sure if I'm with the right person or doing the right thing half the time. Are they saying that I should dump the person I'm currently with, because they won't be ready to have a child when I am?

Or, are they saying I should just settle for someone who isn't the love of my life so I can have a child? It would suck to be that guy, the one I've settled for. In fact, I would probably find it a little sucky too. And what kind of life is that for a child, with those kinds of parents?

I agree that children can be a wonderful part of life, a part I hope to share, but I refuse to be harried like a cow to the insemination pen because I'll suddenly lose any worth I might have when my eggs dry up.

I resent feeling like a psychotic baby-hungry has-been, because naturally, there's nothing sexier to men than a psychotic baby-hungry has-been.

What do these people think women become when they can't have children? Dried-up husks? Sexless drones?

My mother has not helped. Her yearning for grandchildren is such that children and procreation somehow creep into the conversation every time I visit. There is no man in the equation at all now. Just me, and a child. Possibly an immaculate conception.

And please, no criticisms of my mother. It would hurt me and her very much, and I know she does these things because she loves me, and wants me to be as happy as she is with her children.

No small wonder that I am so conflicted about these issues. According to my mother, who, admittedly, came from a tougher society than I did:
a) Men are useless and unreliable.
b) Men will go chasing after a younger bit of skirt as soon as they get bored of you.
c) Love doesn't last, but ...
d) Children, you can always keep.

Mother, I love you, and I would give my life for you. But seriously, what kind of message is that to pass on to your daughter? And yes, I know you've seen these horrible things where you come from, and I even know who you're talking about when you tell me these cautionary tales. But there must be men out there who are noble and kind. There must be a love out there that lasts.

"There must be," I said to God tonight in the shower. And I apologised to Him, again, for only having crappy things to give Him. One day I would like to give Him a really nice present instead of all this crap and angst I've been dumping in His lap. But tonight I gave Him my fear, and my helplessness, and my confusion, and I asked Him to take my life in His hands.

I asked Him to just help me be happy.

3 comments:

girl and dog said...

What can I say except "I'm right there with you". :)

My brother just got accepted into Stanford University (I'm going somewhere with this fact, bear with me). He brought back Stanford sweatshirts for my mother, my father, and his girlfriend.

He brought me a t-shirt for a baby.

NO PRESSURE, RIGHT?

Anonymous said...

I'm male, but I want to have children as soon as I find the right person, and definately before I turn 35. Definately. Before 30 would be better. But the way things are going, it looks like I'll never find the right person, and will be doomed to ending my family line (both my sisters don't want children).

I want to pass my way of thinking onto my children. I want someone to love.

Sure, I don't have the monthly reminder or ticking time bomb in me, but I wouldn't say this feeling is limited to the female gender.

An9ie, don't be upset, and know that you are not alone, and have friends everywhere that will comfort and support you.

<3 RaZeR

an9ie said...

Girl, the only word I can say to that is "HWHAT?!?" If my little brother did that to me, I would smile sweetly and accept it in front of our parents, but later on corner him, and then stuff it down his throat with a severe tongue-lashing. Obviously you are a calmer and more mature person than I am :)

Razer, thank you. It's good to know I have such wonderful friends who will be there for the bad as well as the good times. I know it's silly, but I think I have finally let all the stupid media get to me about it, as well as personal circumstances which have been a little trying.

My sister and I had a fantastic conversation over the phone last night, where we agreed that we had to let go of our anger over these things, and we had a fun time taking turns yelling, "*** IS/ARE SH1T!! SH1T!!!", where *** represented whatever we were frustrated with at the time. Very cathartic.