In a moment of devastation recently, I found myself saying out loud that I wished I just didn’t care about this.
I wish I was content to live a life without children in my home that didn’t get “returned to sender” at the close of the weekend or workday. I reckon that would be a peaceful way of life for my husband and I.
But try as I might, I can’t turn this off.
And I’m not sure why.
Could it be the primal instincts of all animals that drives us to procreate? Or perhaps my know-it-all-ness getting the better of me and my assuming that I could do this well if only given the chance? Or in that same vein, maybe it’s my logical mind that is angry that something that SHOULD have worked, has not.
I would very much like to not feel like every baby that doesn’t give that comfortable and knowing reach when I reach out to them isn’t personally casting their vote on my not being suitable.
I would also like to not feel so personally attacked by influxes of mom-driven marketing.
I don’t WANT to feel sad.
I don’t WANT to be insecure.
I don’t WANT to over-think every.little.thing.
But I do.
Last night, around 3am, I was texting with my husband, who was at work, and rattling off things that were driving me crazy.
Finally, he went, “Hey, you shouldn’t be thinking about that right now. There’s nothing that will come of it.”
And it incensed me.
Like, I could FEEL myself become enraged.
Not at him personally, but at the THOUGHT that there was an alternative to thinking about this. As though I’d CHOSEN to be up at 3am pondering the complexities of parental purgatory. Who would do this to THEMSELVES?
I told him as much.
He told me to go ahead and drive myself crazy, but to think about whether he felt like going on the trip before yammering on at him about it.
Sigh.
What do people think about in their lives when they aren’t consumed with this worry and anxiety?
How does one go through life without this constant nag in the background of every decision?
I wonder what it’s like to not CARE about this.
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