Thursday, April 21, 2016

The most interesting parts of yourself.

Since the rise of the narcissistic selfie, everyone has become obsessed with looking their best. 

Makeup, clothing, hair, picture background all have to be on point for the perfect selfie. All that effort needs to be made, highlighted contouring makeup, perfectly coiffed hair and just the right mix of light makes for a perfect selfie. Ofcourse you will have to contort yourself like a chinese acrobat at cirque du soliel and then proceed to take 534 pics so you can choose the absolute best one or five. As luck would have it somehow there is always a broom/mop or a toilet in the background but you can  overlook that since the part with your face in it is just too perfect. And if you are wanting to include more of your background or more people in it you can whip out your selfie stick and hey presto! ... a group selfie with a fountain or mountain or beach.

The irony of the selfie is that human beings are not drawn to each others perfections. Rather the opposite is true. Our curiosity is peaked by each others imperfections. There is no one more interesting than someone who has gotten divorced, failed, maimed, broke, got fired, made millions, won a car, got massive promotion, is famous etc. We want to discuss those people. We salivate just waiting for an opportunity to discuss them and their latest accomplishments or failures. 

So when we break that down on a smaller scale. Being perfect is not interesting or attractive. Being imperfect is. Your chipped tooth, your curly dry hair, your incomplete education, your weird laugh. The way you speak, walk, dance. Your silly jokes. Your crooked feet. It is all imperfectly perfect. So laugh more, less duck face. Actually swim, and forget to take a picture of you at the beach. You don't need a picture to prove that you actually did something. Forget makeup. Look around, listen, be present and climb out of your own head.

While I applaud the impressive advancements in technology. I mourn the loss of freedom. We used to be free to experience life without recording it. Without having to see our crazy, uninhibited selves and our actions again. We could remember it as we wished to. We could be surprised!! Life used to be so much more surprising. 

The most interesting parts of yourself happens when no one is looking. And that includes you.

Relax. Live. Let go.

"Imperfection is beauty, madness is genius, and it's better to be absolutely ridiculous than absolutely boring"      -     Marilyn Monroe

I wish one day....

I could say "I didn't even know I was pregnant".

Just the same as those who say "oh look its dinner time, I completely forgot to eat lunch". The truth is infertility is not something you can ever forget. Its like moss on a river stone. It just lies there, slowly covering you so that you are no longer able to distinguish which parts are rock and which parts are moss. Over a long enough time it becomes such an ingrained part of you that you forget who you used to be before it consumed you. 

Its not the easiest thing to explain to those who have never experienced the hold it can have you. Perhaps you can just set it aside they say. Just relax, it will happen. You're stressed. Just have your mind think about something else. Imagine for a moment you tied an elastic band to your wrist. Sometimes its really tight and you can barely feel your hand and some days it's so loose you think its about to fall off! It never does. Its just there, every single moment of every single day. Thats how it feels. You can never shake it off. You can never control how its going to make you feel on the day. It just does as it does when it does it. Some days it makes you so happy knowing its there, you're filled with incredible hope and dreams that maybe today is the day. And sometimes it fills you with such dread and sadness because you know today is not that day. You become one with that elastic band and soon its part of your skin. You see it there in the dark, you feel it there even under water. It is you and you are it.

At some point you have to be that big girl that doesn't cry. The one who says "Fairy tales don't always have a happy ending. And I foresee the dark ahead if I stay"...  Well I don't want to be that big girl. I want to cry. I do not want to go gentle into that good night. I want to rage. Rage against the dying of the light. My head will be bloody, but unbowed. And my soul ... unconquerable. This will not beat me.

Instead, I will feast. Feast on all the joy, happiness, love and light that life has to offer. Some days the weight of infertility is crushing and some days it makes me stronger than I ever thought I would need to be. And in the end when you add up all the days.... they are all good anyway. Even the bad ones. 

Because what could be better than being alive and being happy.

Friday, April 1, 2016

Dear future self...

Dear future self, 

I wish you could write and let me know things are ok. Let me know that my dreams have materialized. I wish you could tell me not to worry. Just to let it be. But I wonder if the outcome would be the same if you did? Would I try less harder? Would I surrender easier?

No, better you stay quiet. Let me fight my fires without knowing the degree of burn. I've never been one to need to know the end before I've embarked on the journey. Being prepared for every eventuality is very different from knowing the exact eventuality. 

Which one would you choose? Knowing one, or trying them all. I choose all. Otherwise what would you do with the rest of your time?

Rage. Rage against the dying of the light.