Entry Seven. Mother Nature and Father Time.

Okay, so I know it's been over two weeks since I've posted anything but in my defense, I've been reading. And reading is respectable right? For me, when I start a book everything else gets put on hold. And since I was reading a book series, it was an extra long hold. Anyway, in the last four days or so I've been thinking about children. Or rather, my lack there of. I just turned 35 and for the first time in 13 or so years, my menstrual cycle is normal. No longer are my eggs turning into lifeless cysts but into sources of life themselves. Consequently, a door that I considered closed a long time ago, has now cracked open.

Years ago when I was around the age of 15 or 16 I made the decision to never have children. At the time I only suffered from depression and panic attacks. But I just couldn't imagine having a child and passing on my genetically mutated soup mix. It seemed irresponsible and narcissistic. The world didn't need another screwed up me. When I stopped having a period around the age of 21 or 22 I thought maybe God was in agreement with my decision. At the time I had my first real boyfriend, we were in love, and we planned on getting married. I had never been with a man so I hadn't had to worry about getting pregnant. No period, no kids. Yet, from time to time it would bother me. Sometimes I felt like I really wanted to have my future husband's children. Sometimes I felt annoyed that the option was taken away from me regardless of my "no kids" decision. But as ridiculous as I knew it was, I let myself believe it was a part of God's plan.

That leads me to now. As Father Time has dragged me kicking and screaming into my mid thirties, Mother Nature has shown her sense of humor by flipping my on switch. I am NOT a happy camper. I can't help but think, "What are you thinking God?!" The husband is gone and I have no money for anything like IVF. Besides that, I still worry of passing on my genetic soup, especially when it has continued to mutate over the years. How can I consciously give a child BPD? Okay, so it isn't a forgone conclusion that the child would get BPD but the chance that they will be perfectly healthy is almost nil. It's not like I want to pass on depression or panic attacks either. But there is another school of thought that is playing a tune in my head. How much faith do I have in God? Do I believe God can do ALL things? Surely God can break this generational curse. But do I really believe that? Honestly, I think he can. But will he? Maybe it isn't his will to bless me with a healthy child. Don't look that way at me. Children with Down's, Autism, etc., are born everyday. Why? I don't know. But it scares me.

I guess the bottom line is that I don't have to worry about it right now. I may never have to worry about it. But one thing is certain. As Father Time shoves me up the age hill, I will eventually be thrown down the other side. And if I get my way, I'm taking Mother Nature with me. I think she owes me a few bumps and bruises.

Entry Six. Darn it, I'm a princess!

     When women are little girls they are often called princesses. They like to dress up and pretend they are these, said, princesses. Inevitably though, someone pulls the rug out from under them and they are thrown into the real world. For some, they find their footing easily. For others, their life might as well be like a sock in a dryer. Spinning in a chaotic "hot mess." Sometimes, they even get completely lost. Eaten by the machine, or rather, society. I am, without a doubt, the "hot mess."  However, I have been nearly lost a number of times.

     Now, you may think it silly, but I still see myself as a princess. Unfortunately, the princess is Cinderella without the hopes of a fairy godmother, much less, a prince. I did kiss a toad once. The only thing it turned into was toadskin baggage. And I mean, A LOT of baggage. I tried carrying it again and again but each time it threw me down leaving bruises and scars that may never heal. Eventually, the price for carrying that kind of baggage became too high. So here I sit, Cinderella, darning my "hot mess" socks. Playing the role of evil stepmother and stepsisters are BPD, depression, and panic attacks. Like Cinderella, I have been obeying their orders for years with no way out. Unlike Cinderella, I won't be waiting on that fairy godmother or the prince. It may take time to learn to darn my socks well, but I'm making an effort. I'm even taking lessons.

     So I know you're wondering how this Cinderella will turn into a princess without a fairy godmother or a prince. The answer is, I won't. But I can have the courage of one. In the movie, "The Princess Diaries," Mia finds a letter in whch her father passes on a piece of wisdom. He states, that "courage is not the absence of fear, but rather the judgement that something else is more important than fear. The brave may not live forever, but the cautious do not live at all." In life, you will always "be traveling the road between who you think you are, and who you can be. The key is to allow yourself to make the journey."  So I may make this "hot mess" journey with fear; but more importantly, I will also be making it with courage. After all, I may only be darning now, but once I'm done, I will find my own footing (in warm socks). I may even turn out to be a true princess, albeit only on the inside.

     So ask yourself, who do you think you are. Then ask yourself who you could be. It may be a long road to figuring it out, but isn't it worth the journey?