Thursday, May 28, 2015

"I don't want a baby", and other lies I tell every day.



This weekend I was in California. Sassy McLadyBoots has beat all odds and found true love on eHarmony. This weekend was her wedding, and it was perfect. If I could wish a perfect wedding for one person in my life, it would be Sassy McLadyBoots, and now she has it. I am a happy camper.

Long after she and her new Mr. were off on their honeymoon cruise I was sitting in Sunday School with an old friend when the teacher, surprisingly (I'm sorry, but it's true) asked a really fantastic question. "How can we make sure that people who are struggling feel welcome at church?" to which my friend bravely offered this comment:

"In the twelve step program we learn something really important. We learn to lead with our weakness. It makes everything we say after that more accessible for those we speak with and takes the conversation to a very genuine, vulnerable place. I think we need to lead with our weakness more when we are in church, rather than pretend that we have it all together."

And, he's right. Not only in church, but anywhere heartfelt progress is to be made. For this reason, today I'm going to lead with this: I don't know what to do.

When I went through my divorce I made the decision to purge my life of any and all photos of The Mr. That's probably why it really took me off guard today when I discovered one. I'm graduating and looking for work and so went about updating my old profile on a nanny website. The photo is from our engagement shoot. It's of both of us standing in my old kitchen. He's wearing an apron and I'm holding a cookbook and we're doing our damnedest to look domestic, but really we're just on the verge of bursting out into belly laughs and, I'm just going to say it, we're adorable. Not only are we adorable, but that photo is a reminder for me.

These days, when I think about The Mr. I do not think about the happy times. One reason is that they were so incredibly short lived, but also, I don't want to give myself any reason to dwell in that time in my life. I tell myself stories like, how could I ever have been so stupid? The way we were mismatched is so incredibly obvious. I was an idiot not to notice it in the first place. Or, He was always terrible. I was just desperate or love drunk or both. I should have known from the beginning that things would end the way they did. But all that is really not true.

The truth is, when The Mr. was great, he was really great. He was funny, attentive, invested, romantic, charming and present. He was a dedicated boyfriend and our chemistry was fantastic. More than that though, he had this quality about him. It was this...openness to new things, this desire to work hard, to be good, to reach and grow. I lie to myself sometimes and say he was always the way I remember him at the end of our relationship, but that's all it is--a lie. There was a time when he was great, and I was reminded of that in this unexpected photo today.

So here's where the - not knowing what to do - part comes in. I trusted The Mr. with all my heart and soul. I invested everything in him. I held nothing back, no hour of time, no moment of energy, no resource was held on reserve in some secret corner for me, and that trust, that investment, that endeavor was shattered in such a way that nothing will ever be able to fix it. He did change, and I changed too in my own way and things got ugly and it is what it is now, and part of what that means is I don't know how I could ever trust another human being like that again.

But I live in a complicated world. I am a 30 year old, single LDS woman. The idea that my crowning glory and greatest aspiration or achievement in life would be to marry in the temple... again is so inextricably woven into the fabric of my faith and so heavily reinforced in daily life on this campus that I feel almost inexorably jammed between a rock and a hard place. Let me explain.

In my life now I almost constantly feel two things. The first is this: an intense, unabated, relentless, almost primal urge to be a part of a family--to fall in deep and lasting love, to sacrifice and invest and become a mother, a wife, an equal partner. I crave a safe place to build what I see blossoming in Sassy McLadyBoot's eyes. Not only does that come naturally to me, but it's blasting on every radio station in Mormontown 24/7.

The second thing I feel is this similarly deep and primal urge to protect myself. I was hurt on a level that is challenging for even me, woman of many words, to explain. To get me far away from that pain I've had to cultivate a lot of you're just fine on your own sentiment. When all the pieces were left shattered on my living room floor there was no one else there to clean them up. This girl won't live in a shattered life forever, so, what is my alternative? To become a strong, independent, no nonsense woman who can and will take care of herself. And that works for me in a lot of ways. It's gotten me to Hawaii, hasn't it? It's kept me out of reach of dangerous and unhealthy men, right? It's dragged my sorry ass out of bed when it needed to, gotten me to class or work or anywhere-but-bed when it needed to. But it comes at the price of a small facade. In order to keep this persona up I cannot go around expressing my equally heart felt and intense desire to be a baby mama. The one seems to diminish the other. I am either strong or I am lonely. I'm independent or craving a man. I'm capable or co-dependent. I know the extremes aren't congruent with reality, but I can't help but flip flop between the two in my public and private lives.

So I guess what I'm saying is, I don't know how to find this balance and I don't know how much longer I can keep up this dichotomous existence, and I don't think it's fair that I have to, but I also don't see any other way. While I'm writing this I can already read in my mind's eye the well intended comment of someone who loves me saying that once I meet the right guy then this will all be over. I'll find my balance of interdependence. I'll meet someone who is the yin to my yang, the peanut butter to my jelly, the Liza to my Minnelli, but just pause a moment and understand what a powerless position that puts me in. My only option then is to keep on yin-ing it up and wait--the curse of a woman in the traditional world of dating. I hate waiting. And now I can read in my mind again the commend of another helpful friend who loves me. She's saying the answer lies in being strong and true to myself. No man will ever make it better. Only I can do that. She's right too. They're both right and both pieces of advice are impossible.

I want a husband, a baby, my independence, my interdependence, my freedom and my sanity, and I want them now.

I know these are usually intentional, hopefully uplifting posts aimed at giving you a little leg up on your week, but this week, this is what you get, because I don't know what to do either, and sometimes the only thing left to do is say it.

4 comments:

  1. This is beautiful and wise. I felt very similarly through most of college--I was spending all this time and money and effort on a degree, knowing that if I have children, I want to stay home with them and not work. But I'm glad I did it anyway, because not only am I now working, I'm a better version of myself. I think it's part of the human experience to live in dichotomies. And I hate to say it, but I think it always will be. I've found so many wonderful things I've always wanted, but I still find myself stuck between rocks and hard places. I want to settle down and buy a house, or build one. I want to not settle down and move around a lot my whole life because I get bored. I want all the babies. I don't ever want to have babies. And I think I'm coming to believe that life is less about choosing between rocks and hard places, and more about finding ways to embrace that space...to just allow ourselves to feel BOTH (or ALL) of the things we feel. If we HAVE to choose, then we just have to do our best to figure out what is best for us RIGHT NOW, knowing that in most cases, we can change our minds later.

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  2. I understand the catch 22 you are feeling. It is frustrating and I am going through similar situation. Thank you for posting. It helps me know that I am not the only one who struggles... being independent but wants a family.

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  3. I understand the catch 22 you are feeling. It is frustrating and I am going through similar situation. Thank you for posting. It helps me know that I am not the only one who struggles... being independent but wants a family.

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  4. Totally needed this 2 years after you've written it. You're speech is eloquent but not at the cost of being meaningful or simple.

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