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Once a month, I am painfully reminded of my emptiness.  It hurts everywhere, not just in my empty womb.  I mourn for the loss that never was and never will be.

When I was little, my mother asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up.  It’s a common question posed by adults everywhere.  At 8, my standard answer was that I wanted to be a writer and a mommy.  Most adults, parents included, laughed and told me that wasn’t really a career path.  They always encouraged me to think bigger.  I stopped answering the question after that.

As I get too old for these things, I mourn.  I know there are woman everywhere that don’t feel the need to have children, and I wish I could be like that.  I know for some women they are also physically unable to.  They are still beautiful amazing women, they still have a purpose. So why can’t I let myself off the hook?

It’s getting harder every month.  With more and more of my friends becoming parents and my parents strongly hinting at grandchildren as they watch all their friends become grandparents.  They’ve had 37 years of marriage and aren’t getting any younger.

But is this desire for children really my own?  Is it societal?  Hormonal? Pressure from family?  We aren’t even trying, because other than once a month, I’m convinced that it would be a bad idea to pass on all my fucked up genes.

I’m struggling to find meaning for my life.  I’m struggling to find a purpose for why I’m here.  It sounds overdramatic and whiny but I’m in so much pain, physical and emotional that I’m typing this out on my phone on the bus just to get the words out. 

My body feels like it’s punishing me for my failures.  And moreover, I feel like I deserve it.


Last night I had one of the most vivid dreams I’ve had in quite some time.  Each time my alarm went off, I fought wakefulness and kept returning back to the same place, aching to grasp the threads of the dream again.  Shadows of it are still haunting me, even though it’s mid-afternoon.  I wish I had a way of transcribing my thoughts while I’m on the bus, because I had more to say about it then.  I seem to lose a lot of clarity in the time it takes for me to write things down.

I dreamed about someone who I haven’t spoken with since my dramatic departure from her life in 2004.  I spoke of this toxic person in an earlier entry and outlined some of the reasons I have for never speaking with her again.  We have a few mutual friends, but I’m careful not to ask about her, and have cautioned them about telling her anything about my life.  It sounds harsh, but it seems the harder I tried to push her away, she’d always find a way to prey on the love I had for her.  She’d find a way to make me feel sorry for ever leaving, and make me feel like I was the only person who could save her from herself.

In the dream, I drove the three hours to her wedding, which was in Pennsylvania (I guess in the dream I lived in Ohio).  I missed the ceremony, but went to the reception, where I sat alone and picked at the decorations on the table.  I was sulking and unsure that I should be there at all.  She was there dressed a wedding dress much like the one I wore for my wedding.  Her husband was nowhere to be seen, but she looked radiant as she greeted all her guests.  She looked happier than I’d ever seen her.  A mutual friend of ours came to my table and asked me what was wrong. I told her how I was feeling, and she nodded but then walked away.

At this point, my friend came to the table and sat down.  There were no hugs.  There was no fake gushing about how good it was to see each other.  We just faced each other.  She said to me, “You may not want to, but you are going to call me tomorrow.  I need to hear from you.”  I couldn’t meet her eyes, and said, “I don’t think I can do it.  I don’t want to face you, because you reflect back at me that person I was during that horrible time.  That person was a bad person.  I hate that person.  I don’t want to feel that ever again.”  She laughed and said, “You know I love you to bits, but I feel the same way about you.  I still think  you’re going to call me.”

I woke up at that point, but I still can’t wrap my head around what it means.  She did email me about 8 months ago, and said basically “I’m sorry. For all of it. For everything.  I know I can’t undo anything, and you probably won’t respond, and that’s OK. I just wanted you to know.”  I didn’t respond then, and I don’t think I should even now.

Is this some way of my brain dealing with the loss of my best friend from high school? As if I need to cling to those ghosts because I don’t want to lose the memories of who I was?

I have fought the urge to email this person so far.  I got some great advice from people much smarter than me about why I should keep this person out of my life.  But I feel like there’s something I need to do about my dream.  I feel like my subconscious is telling me something, and I’ll be damned if I know what it is.