11:45 pm - September 30, 2016
Sweet Child o' mine
I cannot reconcile who I want to be with who I think I should be.
End result? Existing. At a somewhat more fiscally realistic level than an indie heroine, to be sure. But I am not as intelligent as I'd thought I was, and...
Children are weighing on me. Obviously not physically, that's totally all about burrito consumption.
The husband told me tonight that he long ago told his family that I am barren, which is why they've never asked about children.
I just thought they assumed I'd be an awful mother.
I sort of have, too. Thought I'd be an awful mother. I'm afraid of passing down my depression, my father's depression, the awful and ugly part that can lash out and wound. How could I look at a bright perfect bit of life who thought they weren't good enough because their brain told them so?
This earth does not need more humans. We haven't figured out how to support the ones we have.
We're not rich or even middle class. We sleep on the old refurbished mattress Gma bought for me 18 years ago. It's pretty awful, actually. I want to buy a house before we get a new one, so it will be starting fresh.
It's better than the air mattress we had before, or the twin mattress on the floor before that. I am not enduring any great hardship sleeping next to the man and being able to wake safe with good prospects for the coming day.
I have never known where the line is.
What if my mom, my dad, thought their love was enough so I wouldn't suffer?
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