I think most people would agree that i am pretty much an 'open book.' I don't think there is a lot that I hold back -- I like to have my say! There aren't many feelings I won't talk about; many topics off limits (ok, I'm not sure there are any topics off limit!); many things I'm not open to discussing.
Is this is a good or bad thing? I don't know that I have the answer to that. I'm sure it's one of those things that will come to me on my death bed... or maybe I'll see it as a glimpse of truth when my life flashes before my eyes in that split second I have to absorb a lifetime of images.
I've been thinking about how I feel towards a few people from my past -- people who had important roles in my life & who are no longer front & center in those places anymore. The reasons they aren't no longer in the forefront run the gamut: one left me with a broken heart; another left me with the same, but in a different way; still another has drifted away for reasons called 'life'.
There's this thing I do. I stay friends with ex-boyfriends. Yeah, that's right... even the whole who betrayed my trust & left me for another girl - him too. We still talk. I have been told that I *might* be a little nuts. Just a little. But, in my mind, if they were important enough to become part of my life, what else would I do? I don't throw out pictures from relationships that don't work out & I stay friends with exes.
So I've been thinking about a few people from my past. My BFF, AriCaVa, tells me how she can't keep up with all it takes to remain friends with those people you don't see all the time or talk to on a regular basis... or even those you don't have anything in common with. I wonder why I don't think like that. I don't mind the effort it takes (though I admit to some frustration with certain people) to keep a friendship going.
Wait. Maybe I should think about this. I don't really keep in touch with anyone I went to high school with. I supposed that's not a good testament of keeping up with those friends!
As I have been thinking about these 'pieces of my past', I find myself wanting to sort things out - including my feelings for said 'pieces'. But who is going to listen to that?
Me: Should I continue to be friends with them? Or should I just pretend like they are lost somewhere & no one can find them. No one can tell me what's going on in their lives. No one will be able to tell me how great their lives are since they dissed me. Sounds like a good plan.
[pause]
Me: ok. how do i do that?
Perhaps the real problem is that each of these 'pieces' are pieces from my past - my life before Cop'er. While I don't pretend as though I didn't have a life until I met him, he wasn't there, so he doesn't know how the shift in these relationships affected me. He doesn't grasp the very real, very deep ways I was altered after those days. He only knows the me of now -- the me that was born of having gone through those experiences.
Of course, Cop'er would listen to me as I talked about it (see above for conversation), but I don't know that he's going to shed light into the dark places. I guess I am going to have to keep with the journal writing.
No... I won't be leaving those little tidbits out here for all to see. After all, a woman's heart is a deep ocean of secrets.
Showing posts with label friends. Show all posts
Showing posts with label friends. Show all posts
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Thursday, January 14, 2010
So Long 2009... Hello 2010
I don’t know about the rest of the world, but I am happy to see 2009 fade into the distance. It was a bittersweet year for my family—celebrating births & mourning losses. Some of those losses are still being mourned.
For those of you who don’t know, I suffered 2 miscarriages in 2009. One, early in the year, after finding out I was pregnant right before Christmas 2008; the 2nd, shortly after discovering I was pregnant again in August.
You know how they say each pregnancy is different? I think the same can be said for miscarriages. With the 1st one, we were told there was no heartbeat in our first ultrasound appointment. It was devastating from the standpoint that I never went to the ‘what if something’s wrong’ place. Why would I? No one else in my family had problems. The 2nd miscarriage was completely different—from finding out I was pregnant to when it happened. Aaron, I & 2 other people were the only ones who knew what was going on. I felt both prepared & completely unprepared to deal with it.
Miscarriage is one of those things similar to death in that people just don’t know what to say, how to act, what’s appropriate or inappropriate. I completely understand that—I frequently feel inadequate with how to help ease someone else’s pain. Sometimes you just can’t do anything & all that’s left is to listen.
When I had the first miscarriage, I was shocked by the news, but knew how common miscarriages were with first pregnancies (even if I didn’t think it applied to me). When I had the second miscarriage, it really threw me. Even though I knew what was happening, there was disbelief. If I didn’t think I would have a miscarriage with the first pregnancy, thinking I would have one with the second was even further from my mind. It really felt like a betrayal of my own body.
I considered many things at that time—maybe it wasn’t meant to be; maybe I waited too long; maybe there was something wrong with me; maybe it was a sign; maybe it was something God was telling me & I needed to figure out. Wouldn’t you know that I never figured out an answer!
I told people I was ‘ok’ when they asked. I don’t know if that was my shield or my way of making everyone think it was true so they wouldn’t worry about me. On the inside, it was difficult & the second time around really hit much harder. And the unfortunate timing was that it happened to be in the midst of a baby boom with friends & family close to me. I couldn’t turn anywhere without someone having a baby or announcing being pregnant.
I have this feeling that people think after the miscarriage is over, it’s just that, over. Time to move on. Nothing you can do about it. But what they fail to remember is that pregnancy, however brief, is the start of a dream. That’s a life beginning & no matter how you try to not think about it, you start to imagine what it will be like ‘when.’
I tried, I did, to put on a happy face, but there came a time when I just had to say—you know what? I can’t go. I can’t be around another happy mother with their baby right now. I bowed out of get-togethers knowing I wouldn’t be good company. I started to think there was really something wrong with me—that I was selfish & couldn’t celebrate the good news of others.
The truth is I don’t think I’ve been a big celebrator of babies/births. Sure, they are cute & say funny things when they get older, but they have always been just outside my line of sight. I either didn’t want any or wasn’t ready for any. I was perfectly fine with not having someone else to be responsible for. Some might take my standoffishness as not caring and that’s simply not true.
I joined a Grief & Loss group for those who have had miscarriages. Being one of many in that group, I realized that I didn’t have unique feelings. I wasn’t the only one who thought, all of the sudden, the world had become baby-centered. I wasn’t the only one who felt as though their body betrayed them. I wasn’t the only one who has taken several months to get to a point where they could be around other babies & not feel awkward, flashing back to thoughts of “what might have been.”
There’s a quote I ran across many years ago that really speaks to me and I think it’s something we should all consider when we have thoughts about how other people act:
“Remember that everyone you meet is afraid of something, loves something, and has lost something.” (~Proverb)
If I were to sit down & talk to you, you’d know I feel this way—I am afraid of something, love something & have lost something. That’s what life is about, isn’t it.
Am I 100% good with things now? No. But it’s getting easier. I have some really great friends who have let me talk when I need, no matter how much, about my feelings and thoughts. It’s been what I’ve needed.
For those of you who don’t know, I suffered 2 miscarriages in 2009. One, early in the year, after finding out I was pregnant right before Christmas 2008; the 2nd, shortly after discovering I was pregnant again in August.
You know how they say each pregnancy is different? I think the same can be said for miscarriages. With the 1st one, we were told there was no heartbeat in our first ultrasound appointment. It was devastating from the standpoint that I never went to the ‘what if something’s wrong’ place. Why would I? No one else in my family had problems. The 2nd miscarriage was completely different—from finding out I was pregnant to when it happened. Aaron, I & 2 other people were the only ones who knew what was going on. I felt both prepared & completely unprepared to deal with it.
Miscarriage is one of those things similar to death in that people just don’t know what to say, how to act, what’s appropriate or inappropriate. I completely understand that—I frequently feel inadequate with how to help ease someone else’s pain. Sometimes you just can’t do anything & all that’s left is to listen.
When I had the first miscarriage, I was shocked by the news, but knew how common miscarriages were with first pregnancies (even if I didn’t think it applied to me). When I had the second miscarriage, it really threw me. Even though I knew what was happening, there was disbelief. If I didn’t think I would have a miscarriage with the first pregnancy, thinking I would have one with the second was even further from my mind. It really felt like a betrayal of my own body.
I considered many things at that time—maybe it wasn’t meant to be; maybe I waited too long; maybe there was something wrong with me; maybe it was a sign; maybe it was something God was telling me & I needed to figure out. Wouldn’t you know that I never figured out an answer!
I told people I was ‘ok’ when they asked. I don’t know if that was my shield or my way of making everyone think it was true so they wouldn’t worry about me. On the inside, it was difficult & the second time around really hit much harder. And the unfortunate timing was that it happened to be in the midst of a baby boom with friends & family close to me. I couldn’t turn anywhere without someone having a baby or announcing being pregnant.
I have this feeling that people think after the miscarriage is over, it’s just that, over. Time to move on. Nothing you can do about it. But what they fail to remember is that pregnancy, however brief, is the start of a dream. That’s a life beginning & no matter how you try to not think about it, you start to imagine what it will be like ‘when.’
I tried, I did, to put on a happy face, but there came a time when I just had to say—you know what? I can’t go. I can’t be around another happy mother with their baby right now. I bowed out of get-togethers knowing I wouldn’t be good company. I started to think there was really something wrong with me—that I was selfish & couldn’t celebrate the good news of others.
The truth is I don’t think I’ve been a big celebrator of babies/births. Sure, they are cute & say funny things when they get older, but they have always been just outside my line of sight. I either didn’t want any or wasn’t ready for any. I was perfectly fine with not having someone else to be responsible for. Some might take my standoffishness as not caring and that’s simply not true.
I joined a Grief & Loss group for those who have had miscarriages. Being one of many in that group, I realized that I didn’t have unique feelings. I wasn’t the only one who thought, all of the sudden, the world had become baby-centered. I wasn’t the only one who felt as though their body betrayed them. I wasn’t the only one who has taken several months to get to a point where they could be around other babies & not feel awkward, flashing back to thoughts of “what might have been.”
There’s a quote I ran across many years ago that really speaks to me and I think it’s something we should all consider when we have thoughts about how other people act:
“Remember that everyone you meet is afraid of something, loves something, and has lost something.” (~Proverb)
If I were to sit down & talk to you, you’d know I feel this way—I am afraid of something, love something & have lost something. That’s what life is about, isn’t it.
Am I 100% good with things now? No. But it’s getting easier. I have some really great friends who have let me talk when I need, no matter how much, about my feelings and thoughts. It’s been what I’ve needed.
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