I Can't Be Fixed
I am excited today because Dan and I are meeting for lunch. I can’t believe that after six years of marriage, two miscarriages, and really crappy in-laws, I am more in love with him than ever. The other day he called me at break because, he said, he just wanted to hear my voice. He always knows what to say. And I don’t think he is just saying them. His words soothe me.
Sometimes I feel like I should push him away in order to benefit him in the long run. Maybe if he didn’t stay with me, he’d be better off. But yet I cling to him with all my might. He is the only one who knows ME. He is the one who understands what I have gone through. And yet sometimes I love him so much I wish he didn’t love me. No one could fix me, but yet he repairs me most when I need it.
I had an interesting thought yesterday and Dan and I discussed it over fajitas last night: Why give up? Why admit defeat and failure? I may as well give it all I’ve got while I still have some left to give.
Dan said he is hesitant to try because he knows the disappointment and hurt we went through the last time. But it’s probably like childbirth itself: you forget it and move on, coming back to the idea when your mind has cleared a path for reconstruction.
While my mind has not erased the pain, it has dulled the sensation of the pain. I guess that’s what keeps us going back for more.
I will never forget the pain and failure, but I feel like we now have a key and we’re afraid to open the door. It’s been a long and strenuous struggle for that piece of the puzzle—finding out why I haven’t had a normal pregnancy and baby—and I don’t want to give that up right now.
I am afraid of failing. It’s like I wrote on someone’s blog the other day (aren’t we all full of advice for others?): If you don’t try, there is no anxiety and no worry about what will happen. You know nothing will happen. And you certainly can’t fail if you don’t try.
I am trying to no longer question why I’m the one who has to try even though most don’t. For some reason, this is my fight. Everyone has their own struggle at one point or another. If I stand here and lament, I will never achieve. I’ve got to rise.
Sometimes I feel like I should push him away in order to benefit him in the long run. Maybe if he didn’t stay with me, he’d be better off. But yet I cling to him with all my might. He is the only one who knows ME. He is the one who understands what I have gone through. And yet sometimes I love him so much I wish he didn’t love me. No one could fix me, but yet he repairs me most when I need it.
I had an interesting thought yesterday and Dan and I discussed it over fajitas last night: Why give up? Why admit defeat and failure? I may as well give it all I’ve got while I still have some left to give.
Dan said he is hesitant to try because he knows the disappointment and hurt we went through the last time. But it’s probably like childbirth itself: you forget it and move on, coming back to the idea when your mind has cleared a path for reconstruction.
While my mind has not erased the pain, it has dulled the sensation of the pain. I guess that’s what keeps us going back for more.
I will never forget the pain and failure, but I feel like we now have a key and we’re afraid to open the door. It’s been a long and strenuous struggle for that piece of the puzzle—finding out why I haven’t had a normal pregnancy and baby—and I don’t want to give that up right now.
I am afraid of failing. It’s like I wrote on someone’s blog the other day (aren’t we all full of advice for others?): If you don’t try, there is no anxiety and no worry about what will happen. You know nothing will happen. And you certainly can’t fail if you don’t try.
I am trying to no longer question why I’m the one who has to try even though most don’t. For some reason, this is my fight. Everyone has their own struggle at one point or another. If I stand here and lament, I will never achieve. I’ve got to rise.
posted by Kel | 11:50 AM
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