oh yeah. i hear you. lately i am so tired of myself; exhausted by the bitterness that lies dormant until it suddenly ROARS AWAKE LIKE A STARVING SEALION and eats the parts of my brain that moderate thoughts like ‘she doesn’t deserve to be pregnant’ and ‘how am i supposed to be happy for these two morons who got pregnant on the first try, they don’t know struggle’. but then, eventually, it quietens: ‘why is it never me?’

why indeed. the universe and i are still trying to figure it out. i think that by admitting them and perhaps even by putting them out there…we are flawed and genuine. such liberty might become liberating?

maybe.

I remember when all of this KayTar drama started, I was part of an online birth club board…there was one little boy with Down Syndrome and he started walking. Walking before my KayTar. MY KayTar, that should have been “normal”. I actually wrote a post about it, here. This is the first time I’ve even thought of it in ages and as I reread it, I was struck by my poor tender heart that still bled so easily when pricked. I’m sad for that girl, crying over calling her little girl “special needs” for the first time. I can’t remember a time when saying it hurt me so, but it did.

At times, I still have gut reactions that I’m less than proud of, though I know it is my cross to bear and I keep it to myself just long enough to acknowledge it and let it go.

I believe people can improve and that yelling at traffic offenders or being jealous of friends aren’t really obstacles that are too big. :) It’s not fair for people to ignore the law, even seemingly minor traffic laws. And the maternal instinct is extremely powerful. Why do some women have such a hard time getting or staying pregnant while others, like my friend who just announced her third child is on the way, can joke about how fertile they are? It’s not fair.

Since you asked, I have been conditioned from childhood not to think that I am pretty. I was always compared to my cousin, the natural beauty. She was the pretty one, and I was supposedly the smart one. (I wonder if she doubts her intelligence the way I’ve come to doubt the level of my appearance.) It doesn’t seem to matter that my cousin is nowadays way too thin and wrinkled-looking from years of smoking — she will always be the pretty one. And I might always look at an attractive person and wonder why that couldn’t have been me. Because, once again, it isn’t fair.

Maybe it’s that unfairness of it all that’s at the bottom of everything?

I’ve been envious of so many things over the years that it’s hard to remember all of them. You just have to get it out, like in this post.

It will become less sharp over the years, less cutting. It takes time.

As for napping ending, have you thought about making him have quiet book time then? Like you have to be quiet in your room for this two hours and then you can play pirate? It was my only plan.