I want…

I want to run myself a bath.

Slip under the water and feel it swirl around me.

I want to lay there, in the warmth and day dream, imaginary conversations between me and people I’ll never meet. I want to let my imagination run wild and emerge, warmed through and ready to write something, anything.

But, it’s the middle of the day and Isaac has just woken from a nap. Amy is asking for food and Isaac is laughing at me.

There is no peace, not for baths. Not for daydreaming or imaginary conversations.

***

Everyone is talking about Haiti.

And I want to ignore it.

Because after getting emotionally involved with Black Saturday, with Hurricane Katrina, with the Tsunamis, with everything, I just can’t.

It comes on the news and I purposely zone out.

I can’t think about it, I just can’t.

I need to protect my emotional integrity, in order to have enough for myself.

I can’t take on board the suffering of hundreds of thousands of strangers.

Not this time.

***

It’s been almost 7 months since Nan died and I miss her more every day.

But it’s been 7 months and it’s harder to say that I miss her when I’m having a bad day.

It’s not an excuse.

It just is.

It’s also the reason I can’t look too hard at the eyes of the Haiti victims.

Because I need my emotions for myself.

And I’m sorry.

***

I thought I was over the bitterness that trying and failing to conceive brought out in me.

I thought I had lanced that wound with the successful birth of a healthy baby boy, who seems to have made it unscathed to his first birthday (more on that tomorrow).

I’m not though.

The announcement of a pregnancy this last week, from a girl who I will say should not be pregnant again, has me bitter all over again.

That poor child.

The mother, and the baby to be.

She sounds pleased about it.

I can think of people who would better deserve a child.

And I’m a bitch to think that, I know.

Who am I to say that she shouldn’t have a baby? Who I am to judge?

I’m no one.

I don’t get a say.

But I still think it.

And I discovered, from this, that having trouble conceiving a baby leaves wounds.

It leaves wounds, that while they might disappear under the surface, they never really heal.

So I can safely say, that while I am happy now, I can still be bitter.

I want to not be bitter.

I want to read her pregnancy announcement and be simply happy for her and not terrified about what it means for everyone else. About what it means for a system already clogged with women like her, babies like hers.

It’s a horrible thing to admit.

***

I want to curl into a ball, and hibernate for a while. I want time to be sad, to be bitter, to ignore the world for a while.

There is no time, not for me.

Eventually.

Maybe.

I’ll be less busy.

I’ll have more time.

***

There will be a doctors appointment soon, where I discuss my panic attacks and hopefully, get something done about them.

Because they’re crippling.

And horrible.

But I have a tendency to be matter of fact about things.

And doctors don’t take matter of fact seriously.

‘Oh that? I just dislocated my shoulder. I’ll be okay.’

‘It’s just my knee. Hang on, I’ll put it right.’

‘Meh, it will be okay.’

I want to say –

I hurt and

I keep panicking

and I’m not sure it’s normal to wake up at 3am and not be able to breathe because you have something sitting on your chest.

But meh.

I’ll be okay.

I just won’t look the Haiti victims in the eyes.

At least,

not until I’ve got my head back together.

***

Isaac turns ONE tomorrow and I will certainly have a post celebrating that. We had a good day today, with my parents coming over to visit and gift him with a wooden train. It was a good afternoon. I’m just a little flat this evening.

If you want to donate to Haiti you can click here to donate through the Red Cross. Just because I can’t watch them, doesn’t mean they don’t need helping.