I've always believed in not practicing avoidance in difficult situations, knowledge is power. Well, now I'm wishing to eat my words and here, on this blog, am officially changing my stance on the issue. I had a good day yesterday until the phone started ringing last night. If you know me, you know I absolutely despise the phone. What I was hit with last night, simply by picking it up, is the perfect example why.
I endured a revolting, detailed and disturbing account of an ongoing situation at ten in the evening….. with absolutely no ability to do anything about it but replay it in my head until I thought I would have to be carried out of my home in a straightjacket. It was not a total shock, but the affirmation that my worst case scenarios were not figments of my imagination, but all too true, were almost too much to take. I was left feeling helpless and nauseous as I sat repeating over and over again, "I fucking knew this was going to happen", as if that knowledge was supposed to take the edge off of the sock in the gut I was reeling from.
I am a doer, I solve problems, and now in this case I find that I am powerless to do anything to affect the situation or even come to terms with it. Can I just interject that sometimes it's miserable to be right about shit all the time? I have a fatalistic perspective on things at times, and more often than not I wish in the back of my head for life to prove me wrong. Well, this time it hasn't. I'm honestly in undiscovered territory, I am at a loss. I've been crying uncle for months upon months now, why doesn't anyone hear me?
Me, the person that all my friends come to for advice and answers, that woman has absolutely nothing that she can say to herself to make things better, there is no comfort anywhere in sight. I would call on my closest friends to help me carry my grief and burden, but they won't say anything right either, so what's the point? I don't need pity, I don't need misguided advice, I just want it to go away. I want to un-know and stick my head in the sand, because knowing is just too hard. Call me a coward, I don't fucking care. If I was a drinker I'd be drowning my sorrows in a bottle or something, instead I'm just taking my prescribed Xanax that is doing nothing to take off the edge from the gaping hole in my heart and the screaming that won't stop in my head. I am totally unprepared to weather this storm, I feel way too fragile right now. That is not only the truth, but it's by far the hardest thing to admit.
I'm fucking angry, devastated, shaky and feeling a touch volatile. I want to hit someone, blame someone, do something, anything. Purging myself of some of this emotion by writing is down is all that I can do. I suppose I could throw some of my anger and aggression at a completely innocent party. That will have to do. Most pregnant women are fucking intolerable. Before you get all uptight, I said most. I personally wasn't one of them, but I still have to share space with most that are. Fuck off ladies, you're not that special. I hate to burst your bubble, but this part of your parenting journey is as easy as it's ever going to get. Remember young mothers, you don't know it all, you don't have all the answers and none of you are immune. Save your haughty attitude about what a great parent you are, cause one day someone will be there to see you fall hard.