Tears

My birthday is this week.

I’m going to be 27.

Having spent this month living in a physical rehabilitation facility – geared specifically towards seniors and geriatrics. … I know that I have only been around for a fraction of a lifetime. I’m surrounded by those who have led full lives. Careers, travels, marriage, children. They have seen it all…and acomplished so much.

I can’t help but feel lacking. I had so many goals that were going to be completed by now. I was going to be done college or university. I would have had at least one child by now; and hopefully in a stable, loving relationship. I may not have lost weight, have had the perfect job….or even the “magic” romance. Yet – I would have acomplished something. Becoming a mom.

I think that has been the reason for the crying lately. Everything is reminding me of what I haven’t done, what goals I have failed at, the children that aren’t there.

Logically – in an emotionally healthy way – I would be happy of what I do have, rejoicing in what I can do – not foxused on what I can’t. Logically. …

I don’t know how to be logical about this. I’m trying – really I am. Letting go of dreams is hard though.

When I was younger I had extremely irregular cycles; debilitating pain,  almost always sidelining me for the better part of a week. When they did an exploratory scope – it was determined that only one of my ovaries had developed fully and properly. That the one was small , with a large space around it (where they said cysts and hernias could occur), and they didn’t know if t functioned.

At 15 (ish) I was informed that I had half the reproductive capacity of the average female my age. I was told my irregularities were more then likely caused by this imbalance – and that it may have been caused by one or more of the psych meds I had been on for the past few years. And oh yeah – since most women had two ovaries, and the average start of menopause was the 50’s – they predicted that for every year after 25 I didn’t have children …. my chances dropped exponentially. Nice huh?

All I have *EVER* wanted was to be a mom. To have my own children. To share my knowledge, experience the joys and heartaches, to love and raise a child from conception – through birth – and the rest of life. I wanted those late nights. Those random cravings. The tears of frustration when they won’t listen, and the ones of joy because they drew you a picture. I’ve known – that if I did not acomplish any other thing in my life – I would still be complete.

Hearing this news put a giant ticking clock over my head. Half the time of my friends. Twice the chance of failure.( I have miscarried. That is a different story all together. )

I have been told not to worry. That it will happen in time, that I could get invitro or adopt.  That things aren’t as bad as they seem…

But – I have a mental illness. I have been on disability for the last few years. My medications can cause birth defects. I could never afford invitro on the small monthly amount I get. I would not get approved for adoption. Not without a job and probably not with my mental illness.

So I’ve tried. To get pregnant. Since 16 I have tried – sometimes actively (on my part) sometimes not. Always hearing that clock ticking away, faster and faster. There is one crucial part of the equation. I have been lacking though….sex.

It has been a little over two years since I have had sex. Over four since having regular and unprotected sex. Yes – I was in a relationship until this past October.  No that did not mean he would have sex with me. (Again – different story).

So here I am. Turning 27. Two years after my clock sped up to double time. Careerless. A college drop out. Single and on disability.  Celibate by bad luck….and childless.

So yeah, that could explain whats going on. Why I am having such a hard time looking for the good. Why I get angry when I see a parent getting mad at their child – when they are just being a child. Why I don’t want to talk about my life…and what I haven’t acomplished.

I’m crying because every day – a chance of fulfilling my dream of becoming a mother – slips further and further from my grasp. My heart is breaking every time that clock picks up , just a little more speed.

Yeah…..that explains it.

Princess with the peg leg (or how I came to break my leg getting on a horse)

Dez lives about 1.5 hours from my moms house. She is my longest relationship outside of family. We met in March when we were in grade 2. I had just moved into the area and it was my first day. No one else would show me around. … *Eventual story to come*… we have been best friends ever since.

It was…wow… can it be 20 years? Grade 2…. I started kindergarten at age 5. Grade one was 6 years old. Grade two – I would have been seven until the end of May. We met in March. I am turning 27 end of this month… that is 19…not quite 20 full years of friendship. BUT HOLY FUCKING COW BATMAN!

I have just decided the next bit has to be its own post because, well.. it’s my fucking blog. So suck it.

 

So – that is where the last post left off.

Dez happens to live on a chicken farm. Not her chicken farm.. just one she lives on. She rents out part of the shop with her boyfriend. They have semi converted the shop space into living space. The other part of the shop is rented by another man. No actual connection to Dez.

K – also lives on this chicken farm. She is another one of Dez’s best friends. She rents the carriage house on the property.

An older couple rent the main house. Again – no corrolation between Dez and them.

So: recap. Dez +1 living in part of a converted shop space.Person renting out other part of the shop. K +1 Living in the carriage house. Elder couple renting main house.  2 large chicken barns, a regular barn, 8 horses.

The animals are as follows –
Dez: 2 dogs (woo and dangerface). 3 cats. (r, f, j), Horses( The Duke, Luna, Splash)
Dez + Ryan : 3 cats (s,v,c)
Ryan : Horse (Nikki)
K : 2 cats (e,r + 3 kittens) , Horses (m, l)
Ryan+K: Horse – D
Dez + K: Stallion

Anyways.. there is a manangerie of animals there.

I was visiting, had gone to see them starting on the 7th. We were going to look into housing options in the area for me, I was going to spend some time with the horse, do some help gardening – etc.

Everything was going great. I had been there for almost a week (Longer then I first intended.. but still good). Dez had been working long hours at her three jobs, K was away, and Ryan was also working. That left me free to roam on the farm.

I spent hours and hours with the horses. Brushing them, Deshedding them. Having long- thought provoking- conversations with them. Basically they were my main contentment while being there.

When K came back home, it was talked about me learning from the bottom  up,  how to ride. I had done some trail riding before… but didn’t actually KNOW how to ride. This was a big thing, not only because I was super excited to get to ride, but because K and I had a bit of a funny sorta relationshipish  thing going on.

Anyways- The morning came. K had actually taken off her air cast. She had broken her foot 6 or so weeks before and was just able to start taking her boot off. We haltered a horse and went to the side pasture to start. First things first, being of course, to get up on the horse without a saddle and to ride bareback. To feel how the horse moves and acustom yourself the rhythm of the horse. Seemed all fine and dandy to me:)

I got up on the stump, K led the horse over to me… and I attempted my graceful mount. I promptly fell backwards and landed on my butt in the mud and horse shit. Nt to be deterred, and with promises that most people fall… I went to attempt again. Now, there just so happens to be a way you have to jump onto the horse, to be able to balance and swing your legs over. I don’t have balance at the best of times.

I made another attempt at jumping… and fell back down onto my feet. My leg promptly snapped. It was a loud sound. Very gross. I fell to the ground in the mud and shit, hugging my leg and screaming that I had just broken it.

I managed to do quite a number on it. Broke the tibia. Fractured the fibula. Dislocated my fibula from my ankle and my ankle from the rest of my foot. A total number. I ended up getting surgery. I have a 6 inch plate in my leg and nine screws. So far I have been in hospital bed since April 13, It is now May 1st. I will still not be able to put weight on it for another 4 weeks. THEN the real physio starts. Luckily for me.. I will be living at the rehab centre. Awesome huh?

And that is the story of how I broke my leg. I am the only girl I know of, or have heard of – who broke her foot horse back riding…. before even getting on a horse. WIthout even getting to ride even ONCE. C’est ma vieImage

How do I tell thee…

I have so much I want to write about and express. I just – don’t want to come off as a downer. I have been avoiding writing, because, for me, not talking about it seems to have let me put it out of my mind for the time being.

I have recently moved provinces. This move caused strife between me and one of my best friends. Feelings were hurt, I probably wasn’t a saint.. but there are still things going around that I am not okay with. Mainly the idea that I have been bashing this friend before and since.

The things that were said were so hurtful – to me – that I blocked one of my best friends. On FB, my phone, fet , everything. I am not going to be talked to like that. Besides – who are you, or who is anyone else to tell me whether or not I was raped? Fuck you, that’s who.

But I digress. I don’t want to dwell on the hurt. I have unblocked her on my end. Maybe something will happen… maybe I will still just be ‘someone who used her and threw her away”, and will always be ‘a bottomless pit where good intentions go to die”. If that is how she feels still… I am sorry. I still care, am still thankful and grateful for every part of our friendship, and hope one day you can view me as more then that.

Next topic:

I moved here (BC) March 30/31. My stuff and I had been crashing at my moms house. I had an air mattress in the pantry, my brother was in the mud room on an airmattress, and my mom and other brother had the rooms. The two cats, dog, and all of us made for one cramped situation – yet I couldn’t really complain. I was home. Finally felt like I could belong in BC again. It was awesome.

Dez lives about 1.5 hours from my moms house. She is my longest relationship outside of family. We met in March when we were in grade 2. I had just moved into the area and it was my first day. No one else would show me around. … *Eventual story to come*… we have been best friends ever since.

It was…wow… can it be 20 years? Grade 2…. I started kindergarten at age 5. Grade one was 6 years old. Grade two – I would have been seven until the end of May. We met in March. I am turning 27 end of this month… that is 19…not quite 20 full years of friendship. BUT HOLY FUCKING COW BATMAN!

I have just decided the next bit has to be its own post because, well.. it’s my fucking blog. So suck it.

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