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Hold on to what is good even if it is a handful of earth.
Hold on to what you believe even if it is a tree which stands by itself.
Hold on to what you must do even if it is a long way from here.
Hold on to life even when it is easier letting go.
Hold on to my hand even when I have gone away from you.
- Pueblo Blessing

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Sunday, Apr. 02, 2006 - 12:58 p.m.

Cost of the War in Iraq
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WARNING!!!! if you know me personally, you may read my diary, but if you do, you take the chance of hearing things you don't want to know, misunderstanding what I've written and being hurt by it. If you are unsure if it is ok to read, save yourself and me the grief and heartache, and ask first!!! Please note that this is a DIARY, ie my subjective feelings, hearsay, suppositions, and outpourings of ranting of the moment. It does not represent objective news, the whole of what I think of a topic or someone, or even a thought-out representation of any of the above. Keep that in mind. Thanks. * Here is a Diary Etiquette Read Me.

Cabane Pas Trop Sucré

I dunno. I am not having a good time.
It is sunny and nice outside. My front yard is cleaned up.

I spent a few hours last night tearing down the sloppily built-in shelving and ceiling and wall plaster in my bathroom last night... and even cleaned up afterwards, putting back tools, taking all the boxes of plaster outside, using my shop vac (ode to a shop vac coming up), wiping down surfaces... so I have a pretty clean bathroom despite seeing all the lathes in the walls. I even stapled up plastic on the ceiling so disgusting filth in breathable form coff hack doesn't sift down on my head when they walk upstairs.


Well, I went to a mom's group cabane à sucre yesterday.

I went in feeling not so bad, and came out feeling like I was the only one in the world who doesn't have a kid, who after fertility treatments and sperm donors didn't end up pushing a baby stroller. I was the only one not in a couple, or accompanied by friends and family and more and more children. I am trying to get into the "I'll be adopting" mode, trying to hook up with people with kids, instead of fetish club late night people. But the more I do, the more I feel left out and lonely.

I sidled up to people but they were discussing dealing with school principals, and brands of diapers. They knew eachother's kids and eachother's situations.

And when they asked about me, I end up talking about my infertility trials, the difficulties of adopting, and I just felt more dismal, and depressing and like some pity object. And I felt like a fake. I had gone to some group events of the same group when I was trying to get pregnant about 8 years ago, and the "best wishes with the adoption!" were like echos of the "best wishes with the pregnancy!". It just felt scary and risky and like I was setting myself up. That in six years I'll still be treading water as every one else's lives advance and evolve and go somewhere.

And that all lead of course to the inevitable feelings of not fitting in as a kid, as a teen, as an adult. Fear of not being judged to have the human resources to adopt. Where are my friends and family, my partner and inlaws, my gang? Standing there not knowing if I should hang with the people I got a lift with (after all they were just strangers who shared a car), they seated people by groups "how many? 6, ok. 4? right this way. 3? over here" And then there was me. One. One? ok, here, please. And there I was sitting with a group chatting to eachother, men, women, a couple preteens and teens, a mom, a son. And to the right, a couple with a baby and a toddler. I googooed at the baby a bit. Had a near disaster where said baby pulled the coffee served to me onto his lap (never place a full cup of hot coffee in front of a baby when you are a server, eh? It's hard to grab in time). Anyways, I felt lonely. Not even a third wheel. A thirteenth wheel.

After all the sticky cold food (do they make those omelets from powdered eggs? The night before?), we went outside and walked around. Again, groups formed. I wandered up and listened in on a couple conversations. No I don't have kids with me. No I can't introduce anyone. Yes, I am trying to adopt.

The people who drove me there hooked me up with others for the ride home, since they themselves were going to visit their grandfather. Imagine having a grandfather to visit. I never had a grandfather, so it isn't something I miss. Grandfathers make me think of Heidi. But again, I felt the sort of singleton who was handed off from one to another as a responsibility.

And when I got home I was going to call artsyguy (yeah yeah, I know), when he called. I was like "yay, great timing, I was going to call you !" But he wasn't inviting me for dinner but rather calling to see if I'd finished fixing his sweater: he was going with his kids to his mom's to pick up his motorcycle and wanted to wear it on the bike. yay. kids. parents. grandparents.

So I tore down my bathroom wall. It was helpful. But I still spent half the night crying.

I don't think I can convince the social workers I have support to raise a kid. People are moving and moving away. The friends I was still seeing relatively regularly last year from the fetish club have cocooned with their new babies out in the burbs. The neighbors I have been having over for dinner have put their house up for sale and have made an offer on one about twenty minutes away (completely different neighborhood in this "walk everywhere" town). The other neighbors with the new baby I have had over for coffee are also househunting. Everything in this area went up in price since I bought, so everyone in my income level is moving out and away, dispersing to about five or six different areas of town. At least if they all moved to the same place, I'd be tempted to sell and move too. But no.

Anyways, I think that all that plaster dust has lodged in my throat and nasal passages. I have a mild headache. Or I'm coming down with a cold from all those toddlers yesterday. And feel like shit. Like I am some defective old bachelor who is totally peripheral to real life. Yay.

And reaching out just makes me realise how much no one else really needs me around, and how incredibly full and busy their own lives are, with coworkers and partners, business partners and climbing partners, coparents and inlaws and outlaws.

I guess I'll walk the dog in the sun. And then go to the library to research possible new clients. I have no work.

Egads. When I think about what this entry is, I don't want to be my friend either.

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previous meanderings - future past

Goodbye Michael. May your next life be kinder to you. - Thursday, Jun. 25, 2009
Taking Care of Your Cows - Thursday, Jun. 25, 2009
Saint Joseph robs the cradle and eats spaghetti - Sunday, Jun. 14, 2009
sticky notes and broken irises - Friday, Jun. 12, 2009
The FOODCOMMANDER - Monday, Jun. 08, 2009


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