Thoughts on a later-than-intended morning

Despite my feeble attempts at creating scheduled bedtimes and morning awakenings during this leave from work, I'm really not doing all that well. My phone rang just after 10 this morning which, on a normal day in the life, would make me pull the pillow over my head. This morning, when I rolled over and saw the time, I groaned that I had slept later than intended and jumped out of bed to answer. One of my closest friends has been besieged with disappointing and heartbreaking news lately, and she was calling to update me on a few situations. She spoke to me about how, when trying to share her heart over her situation with others in her life, she is so often advised to "keep her hopes up," admonished to "not think like that," or [insert euphemism here].

We naturally want to lift up those we love, to encourage them and give them hope in place of despair, but you cannot only feel the good parts of life. Joy without sorrow, love without grief, healing without pain - they are coupled. One does not come without the other. You may choose where your focus and effort will be, but both the light and the dark must have a place. It is not loving but rather dishonoring to praise the existence of one to the exclusion of the other. My friend has not, in fact, lost hope. She just wants the entire breadth of her emotional experience, doubts and fears included, to be heard and acknowledged. Later in our conversation, she said that the hardest part of all was the reevaluation, her struggle to uncover what her life would mean if what she had always imagined for herself may not be a reality.

Now, we're on the same page. My future feels like a vast and meaningless expanse also. People have tried so emphatically to cheer and encourage me, almost always to the exclusion of other very real possibilities: that we don't always get what we want. I am divorced - something I never, ever dreamt I would be, and something I never, ever wanted despite knowing that my marriage needed to end. "Look on the bright side," I am told, you have time now to attend to yourself, to do what only you want to do. Dear ones, that is true, except that I wanted with my whole heart to be married! I wanted to share my life, to be someone's chosen one! It is invaluable to have learned that I can support myself, and I am glad for the new freedoms and experiences which being single has afforded me. But do not ask me to be happy that I didn't get to keep my dream just because other opportunities have opened up in my life.  Five years is a soul-crushingly long time to live without that which you yearn for most.  I am allowed my sadness in this.

I have wanted to be a mother for as long as I can remember, and while I fully acknowledge the losses and sacrifices that this entails, please do not pretend this is something I should be glad I do not have.  Please don't tell me that I have "plenty of time." I do not. Men have forever to reproduce, not women. I am quite well-studied on the topic, and there are valid scientific reasons to realize that with each passing year that the ability to get pregnant and have a healthy baby are not things I can take for granted. Men are drawn to youth, beauty, and fertility, so please don't deny my grief at the time that is passing.  I am allowed my fear and my heartache.

When I moved down here after my divorce, I truly was looking forward to the privilege of attending to my own life only. I contentedly accepted that it would be at least a year or two until I found someone to share life with again, and I enjoyed that time. When I was still alone at the end of two years, I returned to school. This was something I was held back from in my marriage, so I convinced myself with the help of so many others that it was time to “own my life,” “move forward,” and “take the chance while I have it.” Many of you know what a struggle this has been for me. You’ve seen my personality change, my heart sink, and even saw me need to medicate myself through the first two semesters. These days and for so long I have been constantly anxious, forgetful, unable to focus, and rarely able to enjoy the moment for the pressure I feel to be successful and happy...alone.

Truth be told, the only thing I feel about education right now is that it keeps me from that which I truly want, the time and heart to be available. I try to wear the facade when you ask me about my life.  But like my friend, I look around and struggle to find meaning in an unwanted, empty, and uncertain future, and there is no degree, no career, and no freedom that could make up for the loss of what I thought my life would be. When you ask me about my plans, or what I'm going to do after I graduate, I spout about changing careers or going to grad school, just like a good modern woman should.  I pretend I'm excited for it because I know you want me to be. But it's mostly for your benefit. I know my sadness pains you and your instinct is to encourage me toward hope, but all I need is for you to be present with me in the sadness and in the uncertainties.  It is not wrong to feel it, nor to say it aloud that although we can't begin to fathom the realm of what is possible, sometimes we hope and plan in vain.

And so, to my dear friend - you have reason to be sad. You have reason to be afraid and reason to be angry. You have absolute reason to doubt the future and question what your life could mean now that what you thought you'd always have may not be a possibility for you. You and I have learned that we are guaranteed nothing in this life.  I will agree when you admit that yes, perhaps someday the time for hope will be past and you'll discover it is time for acceptance - but for you, this is not today. Today you do have reason to hope. And whichever of all these things you are feeling, good or bad, happy or sad...I am here, and I will hear you.