A part of me has been needing to write, to create, to be something other than the day to day drifting soul that I have become. I'd forgotten about this blog. I come back today and I read what I last wrote and I have to raise my eyebrow at that person who I was. How things have changed... how dramatically.
I'm 6 months pregnant. The father is the brother of the man I was keeping out of my life. How soap opera is that? Yet somehow, as complicated as it all is, I'm quite content with it all. I think I have to be or I would explode with stress. I struggle with posting this even though nobody knows who I am. It's so personal, you know?
I wanted to write some profound insight, some deep meaningful words to provoke inner reflection and I can't. The thought that someone else might possibly read this is actually preventing me somehow. I have such inner turmoil that I can't share it publicly, even if anonymously.
All I know is that this baby inside of me is the child that I always wanted yet never expected. Part of me knew that I wasn't finished having children but I had resigned myself to the fact that I was going to be alone. I'd given up after having to deal with this last boyfriend doing what he did to me. The violence that had entered my life had shattered me, somehow. Then his brother came into my life and I turned to him for comfort, like some sort of forbidden fruit that I was stealing. Now we're together and I don't know how it happened exactly. I never expected it to become something long-term much less creating something permanent, like a baby. Given the surprise of it all, we're all handling it quite well.
I hate this post. It does nothing for me. I am not satisfied with what I have written or what I have said. It makes no sense. It's esoteric and feeble.
Friday, August 13, 2010
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
