Invasion! :)

My Men-folk came for a visit last week and it was delightful. They brought lunch, I cooked, and they commandeered my dishes! We tramped around my neighborhood not quite as much as I would have liked, but it was fun all the same. More excursions for other visits.

A box, labeled Hope.

Indulge me in a moment of reflection and sorrow.

I don't know why it's on my mind so much, but I look at friends, blogs, women who are going to have their first baby and all I can do it miss the one that I lost. Perhaps it hasn't been long enough for the emotion to ebb fully, not that it ever really should, but you know what I mean. To recede to the point where I can be happy for the other women and not feel that little nagging voice that says, "You almost had this." As if I never will?
That is not the case, I counter. I will have children, just not now. Not anytime soon. I want to finish college, and find a stable job in theatre, or teaching theatre and then, when I have the means and the peace of mind, then I can try again. I can try at all.

For now I tell myself that I can't and all it does is make me sad. It makes me worried. I pray for peace, I beg God to make it go away - the wanting so very, very badly - make it go away until I have the time in my life. I can't afford to want a sweet baby right now. It's not an option. It just doesn't stop the wanting inside. So I knit, I keep my life busy in a good way, I spend oodles of time with my honey. And wait. With deep breaths, with patience, with love, I wait. I send prayers up to Heaven to the little one that almost was, telling them I loved them while they were here, and the family that has gone ahead of me will love them until I am there.

*sigh*

And now back to your irregularly scheduled knitting and theatre drivel. Thanks.

~A

A post : in two parts

The show is going nicely. Director Mok is making magic with the first cast and we're adding in more of the second cast where we can. It's crazy good.

And there's some of this:

I am an unabashed self portrait artist. I love taking pictures of myself because it causes me to look at myself from my own eyes. Other people take my picture and I pose for them, giving them a face that is happy and carefree when, perhaps inside, I am not. It makes me admit things. Makes me contemplate and decide.

I admit I have depression. I decided to go to the doctor today and see what I need to do to get on with more of my life instead of sitting around feeling sorry for myself. I want to beat this deamon as much as I can. Summertime helps, being on my own helps, the love of my life helps the most. I am committed to him. I promised him I would seek help, seek healing. I am seeing a doctor and looking into therapy. I am not cutting my hair. I am not hurting myself. I am fighting, deep in the trenches in that erie lull before the shit hits the fan and I have to grapple with my deamon again. This time I have armor, this time I have re-enforcements, this time I am prepared to fight back rather than merely sit by and wait for it to pass. This time, I am ready.