Why I wanted a boy

I was always able to have girlfriends if I wanted them.
I just remember them being meaner. Pickier. Gossiped a lot.
I was shy and didn’t care for that.
I kind of was a tom boy. Up until 8 years ago.
I disliked the colour pink and cried when my Mom made me wear frilly dresses to church.

Over the years I could tell I related better to the boys.
Yeah, it had the extra bonus of attention of the opposite sex, but I didn’t even think like that at the time.  It really did make more sense for me to be around the ones that were more like me.

I’m not like the woman on the tv show ‘ The Bachelor’ who all the other ladies hate. No, no, no. By far not the case. I’m likable. I will say that girls have felt jealousy towards me-  even my own two best friends ( who are still my best friends ( not jealous anymore though   ) ) and that most of the time, I didn’t realize this was so until after the fact.

I feel more comfortable and at ease with a male.
But Not so much today. In fact, I am trying to branch out and get my feet better suited for female grounds. For I know in my next relationship I will only have female companions. That’s what I want.

So this swings back around to my desire to birth and raise a boy.
I feel like I understand them better. I’m more familiar and attuned to them.
They make more sense to me.

Having a girl actually scared me. I feel that I wouldn’t have been as good of a Mother, had I had a girl. Truly. I feel like I would have had less patience and been more mean.

Now I’ll be okay with having a girl.
I feel very very fortunate to have had the boy I so very much desired.

Thank you egg and sperm and timing and whatever else the heck makes up the sex of a child.

 

 

A Guilty Past? No Thank You.

No. I don’t need to feel guilty about my past.

He probably half meant to and half didn’t.
Make me pick up bags of guilt when I thought of my past, and carry them around with me in my days of present.

Half meant to and half not.

I have two large tote boxes-well, the regular size used for storage- full of journals,diaries,binders, notebooks— my past writings.

Going through them the other day I pulled out recognition and familiraity.
I write of insignificant happenings in my life then, that at the time were all that I could see or think about. They were the hugest particles that I made my life about.

It clicks into place as my eyes skim over words I wrote 15 years ago.
10 years ago.

Not only did I survive those stories that are in my binders, notebooks, and journals, but I created more meaningful relationships after they were over. They DID end and I was able to carry out more in depth friendships because of the individual I had become based on those trials.

Who says past has to make one feel guilty when it can be the very thing that makes the present make sense and bearable and understandable.

 

 

Trying to stop the Coast

I don’t recall experiencing such highs and such lows, one after the other, in all my life.

Soaring for days, for weeks even, and then plummeting in an instant. Finding self in the dark caves of insecurity with self abosrbed and self hating rocks in all the tunnels.

How the hell did I get here?

I’m stretching out my arms, with my fingertips trembling for any sort of sense.

But the thing is, it all does. It makes sense why I’m here, how I’m here and why I feel the way I do. Well, that part gets me a bit confused. I’m not really sure why I reach very low points. Other then the reason I’m going through  a divorce and I’m terrified about what happens to my child in the future. Sort of a lack of control. Future does have you behind the controls to some extent and even though I still do-I can afterall, control my behaviour, my actions and try and steer my feelings accordenly-  it feels that all of a sudden life has dropped the drive to go forward and I’m coasting towards a giant brick wall.

My desire to see friends wanes. I know they’ll make me happy but when I reach low, it’s hard to even want to be happy. Self Pity. Oh what a deadly thing.

 

 

 

 

Everything Makes Sense

Even if you don’t understand it, everything makes sense.

Failures make sense. Disagreements make sense. The girl who shoves the coffee in your face, the man who cuts you off in traffic…Achieving good grades and feeling positive about the rain..

Everything makes sense.

You see, we are all human and subject to feelings and emotions, to things that we aren’t always the best at controlling. In fact, the majority of us are awful at keeping our temper under wrap, our selfishness at bay. We feel things even when we don’t want to feel things. They are at an intensity that we don’t want them to be at. We don’t want to care about certain things in life, but we do. We are affected by everything that happens to us. And we don’t even know it.

We don’t take a lot of time to sit down and figure out why we snapped at the lady in drive thru or why we decided to spend one hundred dollars too much on a pair of one hundred dollar shoes. If we stopped to think about the reasons for all our actions, we’d be stopped for a very long time. Our life would be on pause and then we would have to think about the reason for that pause and then we’d be so paused that life would be no timeline at all. Just a dot.

Don’t be a dot.

But don’t get so erratic with life that you’re running on steam, wondering why the things are the way they are.
We aren’t going to make sense of everything in life. But when we understand that we’re not going to, but that everything does, we’re going to be a timeline of happy.

And that’s worth crossing the t’s and dotting the i’s.
For whatever the reason that makes sense.