i send my SOS to the world- this is my message in a bottle. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- thisclosetotheedge I feel like one more thing, and I very may well burst. 3:23 a.m. - Sunday, Apr. 02, 2006 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- A Sense of Being One time, when I was eleven on a family vacation, I distinctly remember walking out of the air-conditioned, dim, smoky casino at Excalibur and into the bright, hot desert of daytime Las Vegas. It was at that moment that all of a sudden, I had this sense of being-- the awareness of the heat and the taste of light and dark, but mostly that feeling of knowing and understanding that I was me. Out of all the people that I have ever encountered- being that one person, with that one story and that one past, when I could have been any one of a million people. Just that tangible sense of being alive. I looked down at my hand and flexed it three times, for the first time amazed that I could control my own body and my mind, that form of consciousness that superceded any rational thought. I was small and large and infinite, all at the same time. I had never given thought to being alive before, being so young. I had never thought that I could have been anything other than I was. It was a gift I had simply taken for granted, and it wasn't until that moment that I realized just exactly who I was. Sometimes this awareness comes back at me, and I do something to remind myself of how alive I am. How my life has a freedom to it simply because there is nothing else. When I am too consumed by my daily life, when I forget who I am when I live vicariously through books, when I am simply too busy to forget that one, tiny miracle-- I can still look down at my own hand and flex three times. ---- Perhaps this is why I am scared of the implications of this potential diagnosis. The potential to be told that my chances for bearing children are lessened is a blow to a future, that now, at this young stage in my life, I had not really given a lot of thought to. But more so that that, is the fact that it would mean that I would have to say goodbye to giving someone that gift- that pure, clear moment of cognition, that sheer weight of knowing that you are alive. If it ever comes to that moment, when I have children but they are adopted, yes, yes, that is love. But maybe it's something, a want that is conditioned in me- be it socially or biologically, that makes me want to have my own child some day. Maybe because I know it is the one purely unselfish thing that I can do- let someone's life fully take over me for 9 months and then the rest of my life. To feel a connection to something that belonged to me- something that I grew, something that I gave up myself for. I am 23-- and in no position to have a child. In many ways I am still a child-- thoughtless, self consumed, acting always with tangible rewards in mind, searching constantly for the next adventure. I like to be free, to make decisions that benefit me, to have a limitless horizon and airplanes to jump off, books to write and read, songs to sing and hear. But I still, despite my maternal resistances, always believed that I would be a mother. Because I think of all the adventures out there, that has to be one of the most miraculous gifts that you can give another person. And while I am cynical about romantic love from time to time, I have never questioned maternal love. Maybe because it is in such abundance in my life, I always assumed I would be able to give that when I was ready. I am not afraid of never finding someone that I would want to spend the rest of my life with. Maybe I will, maybe I won't, there is no guarantee, but that thought scares me very little. When I was younger, I thought it would, but as I grow older, I am proud of my freedom, my independence. I am happy with the love that I try to share freely with my friends, my family and my occasionally ungrateful dog. But I am afraid of never having a child. Love, I cannot control. I am worth love, but I cannot expidiate the process in making someone love me. All I can do is love myself, cultivate the things that I am passionate about, pursue my dreams. I would be waiting forever if I tried to make myself someone worth loving because I am already worth loving. But is there someone out there that I would really want to spend the rest of my own life with? That I would like enough to wake up next to every morning, to associate every song I hear on the radio with him, to give completely of everything I am? Maybe. That is such a limitless gift that the question is not whether or not someone else would want to give it to me, but if I would ever come across a person that I could trust so completely that I could really give them what I truly believed was total, unconditional love. I do not worry that I am unworthy of loving, but I do wonder if I will meet someone worthy of my love. But a child-- a child is something that exists outside of that realm. That was something that I could control, a family that I could have. I learn things now, and have adventures now because I need that, but also with the small belief that one day I would have a daughter whom I could show, through example, how vast and limitless this world really is. I wanted to teach her to love herself in every way possible. I wanted to teach her the same things my mom taught me-- like the time I bought a Sega Gensis and asked her to ask my uncle to set it up. She looked at me and said, "No, I want you to learn how to do it yourself, so that you won't ever have to ask a man to do it for you". I want to tell her she is beautiful every day, that she is worthy of love. I want to laugh with her and shop with her. I want to teach her to think for herself, and feel that pang of bittersweetness when she does and no longer needs my mind to guide her own. I want her to flex her hand, three times and know that she is alive. 11:29 a.m. - Saturday, Apr. 01, 2006 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Balance/Imbalance So he's gone and that's done, and I can't say that I am entirely surprised. There seems to be some invisible wall between third dates and relationships. It's just at that point where things become real, at that labored second in between your hello and your gooodbye where you're not quite sure which sentiment applies more. And yes, it's too bad. But sometimes I think there exists...something, that prevents me from taking these relationships too far. Maybe there is something that exists on my horizon that I can't discern just yet, something that is drawing me more to it than I could have possibly imagined. This is what I tell myself. But occasionally after turning over the small amount of memories around in my brain until they are worn smooth from repeated use, new, almost insignificant things will come to mind and disrupt the balance again. At any rate, I'm gearing up for a very busy year--- my last semester of school, my internship, working to save money to move back up to San Francisco, recording the second half of our album, being a bridesmaid twice, graduation....the list goes on and on. But it is still too bad. 10:46 p.m. - Sunday, Jan. 15, 2006 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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