coping

When this all builds up to the point of becoming unmanageable, my habit since 2008 has been to cram a few things indiscriminately into a bag, run to my car, drive as quickly as I can within the legal limits, and get to the nearest wilderness…the farther away from the sounds of machinery of any kind, the hum of electricity, etc., the better.  Add water, especially a running river…bonus, big time!  It’s absolutely the only thing that can truly get me settled down once I reach the point of feeling like I could easily explode.  Before I went with my impulse to head to the woods, I don’t know what I did…perhaps just lived in a state of perpetual meltdown???

Now I’m married and caring for an elderly parent, so that’s not as much of an option…thusly…thuh blog.

When I started this blog, I didn’t promise that any of this was going to make sense.  I just promised, myself, really, that I was going to process this latest stage I’ve reached with having relinquished my child this way, by writing.

Tonight I watched an hour news program focusing on one case of a 16-year-old girl who was brutally murdered and buried in the desert, watched as family members painfully recounted the experience of dealing with their daughter/sister’s death.  No matter how bad a situation can feel, I can always look around and find a scenario that someone else is grappling with that probably feels worse.  Oddly, knowing that someone else has a tougher issue to work through doesn’t help in the really tough times.

It’s a cycle I go through.  It just so happens that at this juncture the part of the cycle I am currently in is the brutal part.  I’ll get through it.  I always do.  The difference now is that I want to somehow take my pain and do something with it that will make a difference – perhaps even be a part of another woman being spared the pain of adoption separation.

I’m also mourning the loss of more children.  In my thirties, I wanted 4 more boys – rowdy, active, all-boy boys.  As I started approaching 40, I told God, ‘Never mind.  You should’ve seen to it while I was still interested!’  Part of me still couldn’t quite let it go, though, my chance at motherhood.  And I realized a couple of years ago that I really wanted a daughter too.  One day while doing some gardening a few months back, hot anger shot through me at all the time it took to finally find the man I could see myself with for the rest of my life only to find out that he doesn’t want kids.  That day doing the gardening I asked God, ‘Is this some kind of sick, cosmic joke?’  The part of me that also does not want kids is pretty pronounced at this point, but the part that wanted it is still pissed, still hurting.

There is nothing else to do but go through the stages of grieving.  There is no bargaining with loss…it isn’t listening…it doesn’t care.

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