Honestly…?
October 24, 2009
I think I have a problem with “honesty.”
I find that there are too many selves to which I want to be authentic.
There is:
- the “Be tough, you can do this, Lora!” self,
- the “intellect and reading will get me through this” self,
- the “ahhhh, I am so vulnerable and over-whelmed” self,
- the “Just make everyone happy” self,
- the “Hair is good, lipstick is right, – did I tell you that I’m awesome?” self
- the “cannot disappoint people” self (which might closely related to make everyone happy self)
- the “I am a loner” self
- the “I love people! Give me more friends, please!” self
Either way – all of these selves are an authentic, at least in some way, representation of me. And yet, divided into categories and actually existing in reality – they are fairly dishonest.
On the one hand – intellect and reading is helpful, but on the other hand, I feel completely lost and vulnerable. And I am never quite sure how to reconcile all of these different ways of being – into a person that is fraught with dignity, wisdom and yet is completely stable in her emotional sensibilities.
Pregnancy is a lonely thing. Sure, there are other people who have experienced it – so it’s not as if there isn’t a companion with which to commiserate to be found, but when you break it down, in marriage or outside of it even, as the pregnant one – you are quite alone.
It’s impossibly hard to describe, everyone’s experience is different, and the spiritual mystery of life growing within you is – well, incredibly frightening, at least for me.
I’m sure I have deluded myself into thinking that I have any semblance of control over my own self or other people – but, when it boils down to it, I will be introducing another being into the world over which I have about 0 % control. He or she will be a totally different, not pre-existing, new new new new person. A NEW PERSON.
So, in this, I cannot figure out what I am supposed to be feeling. I mean, I’d like to shoot for what I’m “supposed to” be feeling. But, even if there was a recipe – I’m not sure the estrogen would grant me access to it.
I feel this strange alienation from the person I used to be, and I haven’t even really changed yet – but the knowledge growing (now the size of peach) within me had made everything different somehow. I feel paralyzed to know what to do in this waiting pattern before he/she actually makes her existance tangible.
I think, perhaps, what I realized as I just rambled on here – is that I strive for what I think I’m “supposed to be” -feeling, thinking, doing, …. And perhaps, I just ought to feel, think, and do. Most of the time, I never feel like I’m actually doing what I’m “supposed to be” doing. Not sure. These are new thoughts.
Oh, pregnancy – beautiful and formidable.
I wonder how much more alone and alienated you might feel if you weren’t pregnant and couldn’t get pregnant? Or had a miscarriage and feel like no one else in the world understands what you’re going through? Your husband cannot understand or struggle the same way you would. There’s this feeling of hopelessness, inability to do what God created you for, desire for something you simply cannot have. Just something to think about. As there are many women who would LOVE to be in your shoes, would give anything just to have the hope of getting pregnant.
A wife –
Thanks for your comment.
I’ve spend the better part of the day meditating on your words.
I cannot understand the magnitude or loneliness of miscarriage or infertility. I cannot understand that bearing weight of desire – so poignant and fragile. It is absolutely important to affirm that the suffering of that experience must be excruciating and deeply individual. It seems that regardless of how many people experience something painful – that does not take away from the reality of the experience for each person, nor the anguish brought on by the experience.
That is the first thing I thought.
The loneliness, however, of any experience does not invalidate the loneliness of another. While I cannot even grasp the former, it does not change the state of where I feel I am – or the strangeness of it. Perhaps, I should be more clear as to the gratitude I have alongside the insecurity. Either way, I have deep appreciation for this little life – and still a strange uncertainty in where I am, as all has changed and will continue to change.
I’ve thought pretty heavily about gratitude today – what it looks like to be joyful, to express this joy to others. I’m not the best at it – mostly I think I come off melancholy. I apologize for the offense of my feelings – we all, in some way or another, feel things unreasonably or reasonably – but they are there nonetheless and should not be dismissed; instead, they require acknowledgement, prayer, compassion and exhortation.
That’s all I have. Again – I agree that there must be extreme loneliness in relation to those things. It is very difficult to navigate those waters.
Best,
Lora