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A broken compass.

7 Dec

When I moved to California 5 years ago, I did so primarily because my intuition told me to.  I knew absolutely no one in Sonoma County, I didn’t have a job or a place to stay, and I barely had any money.   And yet, because of a feeling in my gut, I hopped in the car and took a chance. Within three weeks of being here, a newly acquired friend asked me to go to a party with him.  Even though I didn’t feel like going, I decided to join him because something was pulling me there.  The second we opened the door, I spotted Tim.  2 years later, he became my husband.  My intuition was dead-on.

In therapy two nights ago, we discovered that one of the problems for me with my losses is that my intuition has been silenced.  When I think about my next pregnancy, my head is telling me it’s not going to work-out and that I have to start accepting the fact that I may not be a mother because my head is trying to protect my heart.  But when I try to listen to my intuition, I can’t hear a thing.  It’s telling me nothing.  Which means one of two things: 1) my intuition has been thwarted from all of the grief and pain and it just doesn’t have an answer for me, or 2) I’m too scared to listen.

We sat with the second option for a few moments.  As we sat in silence while I tried to listen, I still heard nothing.  But while my intuition was mute, my fear was screaming.  It appears I’m scared to death of finding out what it’s trying to tell me.  Which can only mean one thing: that it’s going to tell me what I don’t want to hear.  I can try to tell myself that my fear and my heart are confusing my intuition, but it has never failed me before.

Or has it?

Didn’t I believe whole-heartedly that my second pregnancy (and first planned) was it?  Isn’t that how it works?  Except I think in that case it was merely naivety.  Women who get pregnant stay pregnant, right?  No one miscarries!  My intuition didn’t know any better.

This brings me to a very good point that both my therapist and my husband brought to my attention: biology will always have the ability to overrule my gut.  Perhaps biology even trumps it all – no matter what I feel, it will always have the last say.  The bastard.

Perhaps this is something I can believe in while my intuition remains silenced.  That even though I can’t (or won’t) hear what it’s trying to tell me, that maybe this one I should just leave up to biology.  It’s just so difficult to turn my back on the compass that I’ve relied on my entire life, the one that brought me three thousand miles to my husband.  Navigating this newly-found landscape sometimes feels impossible without it.


Feeling restless.

19 Sep


Somedays, it takes all that I have to get out from under this quilt and face the world.

As a direct result of this fourth loss and facing the reality that I may never be able to have a child, I seem to have become quite restless in my day-to-day life.  I’ve realized that if I’m not able to fulfill my dream of having a family, then I need to have something else in my life (other than my amazing husband) that is worth waking up for.  I’ve been sitting at a desk of some form for nearly 10 years and I feel in my gut that it’s not what I was meant to do.   Don’t get me wrong – I’m thankful to have a job, especially one that does such important work for the world – but when a huge part of my dreams have been shattered, it’s impossible to want to come and face this computer and this desk every day.

I admire those that seem to love what they do.  They wake up in the morning excited to see what the day brings.  Tim is one of those people, and I adore that part of him so very much.  He loves what he does and rises early in order to get started because it’s his passion and why would he want to sleep when he could be working?  As he jumps out of bed, I roll over to hit the snooze one or ten more times, contemplating calling in sick.

I’m thankful that out of this awful experience of having my heart broken into a thousand little pieces, it has left my heart yearning for something more.  I’m determined to somehow be able to live my passion every single day.  To have something to get out of bed for.  I want my passion to call to me, not my quilt.

I just don’t know where to start.   The people I work with have become my family, so I have to find a way to be okay here until I see a way to make my new dreams a realization, not letting them down in the process.  So for now, I have to keep coming to this computer and this desk until I can afford to do otherwise….knowing that someday, I’ll want to get out of bed.

Live in the now.

17 May

Last night in therapy we came to a pretty easy conclusion on what is causing all of my problems in life: I refuse to live in the moment.

One by one, we talked about all of my underlying issues, why I get stuck worrying about things and can’t seem to move past the worry and live my life, and every single one of them is because I can’t seem to live in the now.

Remember this?  It’s because I’m living in the past or in the future, not in the present.  I always want what I had or what I think I could have, when in reality, what I already have – at this moment! – is pretty incredible.  My constant fear of my dog running away?  He’s here now: live in the moment!  My desire to move back home?  I live in an amazing place with a good life.  My desire to head back East is based solely on my past experience with living there* and thinking it would be nothing but grand if I were to move back.  How do I know this?  Sure, I believe I’m my happiest there, but my unhappiness here won’t simply disappear with moving, I’ve proved that time and time again.  Presently, I’m in a fantastic place with a lot of benefits.  Succumb to the present!   My fear of pregnancy?  I can’t control the future and worrying about what-ifs will not get me anywhere.  What will be, will be.


Tim is really good at this.  I’m going to bank on the fact he’s 12 years older than me and because of that he’s learned how to master it in those years, and I have faith I will, too.  But how do I do it?  Where do I start?

Do any of you find yourself not being able to live in the moment, and only able to focus on the future or past?  If you have mastered living in the moment, how the hell did you do it?

I’ve been aware of this for a while now…but having it so plainly pointed out to me as the root of all of my unhappiness, really hit me.  I could so easily see that if I were simply here now, mind and body, life would be a whole lot easier.  And also?  A hell of a lot more fun.

I’m starting to work on it now, because it obviously can’t wait until the future.  (Sorry, I couldn’t help myself.)

* Ultimately, the fact my family lives there is a bigger pull on this one.  But I’d be lying to say that in my head, I don’t romanticize it and make it out to be the solution to all my problems.