Crimson and Ether

Incognito Soapbox Confessions is a place where I seek to gain a sense of peace and understanding about myself. To document my journey in the hopes that perhaps, someone else might read it and feel that they are not alone (and not crazy) in their desires, fears and general pursuit of future motherhood.

I felt I strayed away from my original intentions of blogging and therefore decided to make a few changes to my blog.

I seek to gain more of what I originally intended for this blog. I believe the changes will encourage me to blog more often, which would be a good thing for me as I find it therapeutic.

Of these changes, the first one is that I am no longer allowing comments. Effective immediately. I plan to write an explanation tomorrow soon.

Three nights ago I had a dream that my ovaries and fallopian tubes had been scooped out of my abdomen by an unseen force and put inside of a blender. Even though the blender was outside of my body, the cutting of my organs inside of that machine felt like barbed wire being wriggled around inside of me. Once they were good and stringy, my reproductive organs were shoved back into my abdomen where I was left to deal with the psychological and physical mess.

In an attempt to escape my torment and seek help, I ran into some sort of mall or airport and found a bizarre looking bathroom with toilets that did not so much flush as they did suck the waste from you and empty it into outer space. Through the hole you could see glimpses of something resembling this:



As I stumbled towards the "toilet", my bare feet touched the cold tile floor which was covered in approximately two inches of dark murky water. I cringed in disgust at the thought of where that "water" might have leaked from.

However disgusting my feet felt, I had more pressing concerns.

I arrived at the front of the tube like structure which was designed to suck waste out and send in out into the ether. I reached inside of me and began to untangle the thick spaghetti-like mess which had previously been my reproductive organs.

Pulling everything out of my abdomen, I realized that half of the tissue was already dead and half might still be salvageable. I began to cut away the dead tissue and let the vacuum tube suck it away.

In the same manner as cutting a hangnail, occasionally I would misjudge where the dead tissue ended and the live tissue began and my abdomen would churn again with the feeling of barbed wire and a blender.

Fairly quickly, I realized that there was just too much thick-crimson-pus oozing out and falling onto the "water" covered floor.

"I need a doctor." I realized.

"I really need a doctor."

Anger. Hostility. Rage.

Amy asked me a few weeks ago if Andrew was planning to move-in with me since my roommate moved out.

Great question. Loaded, tricky and unpleasant. But a great question none-the-less. Also, a subject I had been meaning to write about for several weeks. Funny considering my lovey-dovey post yesterday...but no, no, as far as I know I am not bipolar. ;) I still love Andrew to death. And he is still the kindest gentlest guy around.

I suppose the best place to start is back at the beginning:

The day after Christmas, my (now ex-)roommate called me at my parents house in California to let me know she had decided she was moving-in with her family. While I was sad to hear she was leaving, it was not exactly a shock. It was a logical, rational decision as far as I was concerned. So expected, that I was only surprised she had not arrived at that conclusion earlier.

When Patty called, she was semi-excited to tell me because she thought that Andrew might want to move-in and take over her lease. "You two are so close." She said. "I know you have been talking about moving in together next August, so why don't you just bump it up a few months?"

The idea was something I had been secretly and very selfishly been thinking about for a few weeks. After I learned that Patty's cancer had spread the idea of her staying in our house seemed ridiculous as the rent and burden of having to continue working seemed overwhelming. So I definitely admit the idea of Patty moving out and Andrew moving-in had popped into my selfish little brain more than a few times before.

Therefore, as soon as I got off of the phone with Patty, I called Andrew who was on vacation with his family in New Hampshire. I told him that Patty was moving out and we would be looking to find someone to take over her lease starting March 1st. (Note: Patty ended up moving out earlier because her treatment was not going as well as they originally hoped.)

Andrew sounded happy on the phone. He said he would call me back when he got a chance to slip away from his family and we could talk more. When he called me back hours later he said, in no uncertain terms, that moving-in together now was not an option for him. Because....



Because....




Because.....

HE WOULDN'T HAVE A PLACE TO PARK
HIS CAR
IN FRONT OF MY HOUSE!




His CAR.





His CAR!!!!!!

Because Andrew's license plates are from out-of-state, and I live in an urban area where you need a residential parking permit to park, Andrew would have nowhere to park unless he switched his plates over. (Something I have been telling him he should do for months. Therefore, it was already a huge source of bitterness for me.)

I tried to play it off at the time like it didn't bother me. I tried to pretend that I understood. But for someone who usually moves mountains to make things work for us, I just did not understand why he was so easily deterred. So ready to give up. It felt like he had literally slapped me in the face.

I was so crushed.

If he just did not want to move-in with me now, that would be one thing. But he was letting a fixable situation be the reason. He was letting his freaking car dictate our future.

The situation ate at me for weeks.

I tried not to bring up it. But inevitably it slipped out in my bitter comments regarding his less-than-stellar current living situation,

"Well if you lived with me, your kitchen stuff would actually be clean when you wanted to use it because I actually clean-up after myself!"


"Oh really? You hate your roommate?!
Well, if you lived with me, you wouldn't have to return home to find your front door wide open and no one home...Later to find out that your idiot roommate was in such a hurry when she left that she forgot to close the door!
BECAUSE, GUESS WHAT!?
I know how to shut an f***ing door!"

Needless to say, I had a large wad of hostility aimed straight at his head.

Unfortunately that wad spewed out at him whenever he said anything about his house, or my house. As it turns out, I also had a great deal of hostility building up towards his father too (who, come to find out, had actually led him to decide on the idea that moving-in with me would be too much of a "hassle" because he would have to switch his license plates!)

I am too much of a hassle?! A "hassle?!"

Dear god Andrew. Just tell me that you are seeing someone else! Tell me that you have decided you never want to live with me or marry me! Please please, please, please do not let me think that I am just too much of a hassle for you!

Finally, in one large argument a week-or-so ago, the truth finally came out. Over about a three hour time period Andrew realized,

"I think I am just scared to move-in with you now.
I am so sorry I made it to be about my car. It is so not about the car.
Oh gosh. I am so sorry. Please, please forgive me."

Phew. Finally.

That is a perfectly reasonable, understandable and commendable answer.

I just knew that it couldn't be about the F-ing car.



So, to answer Amy's original question:

Andrew is not moving-in with me because he is scared and not quite ready for that, yet.

Not a problem.

Not a problem, at all.

I would wait years and years and years and years and years for that handsome man.

In the meantime I, clearly, have my own issues to work on. For example: Anger. Hostility. Rage. And expressing feelings and emotions in less hurtful words than I currently resort to. I know it is not my fault for learning to deal with my emotions in this manner, growing up it was just the way that my family resolved conflict. However, it is my fault if I continue to do so with Andrew. He never yells and rarely raises his voice to me.

He deserves to be treated with just as much respect as he shows me.

Has your man ever tried to redirect a situation away
from his fear of commitment?
If so, what did he make the issue about instead?

Have you had to change ways you communicate as an adult because you came from a family, or had bad habits, that were not exactly functional?

Because I Just Love Worms!

Have I told you lately that I love you?

Well, I love you. Yes, you. My dear readers. You all rock and are some of the most extraordinary women on earth. Such a wide variety of backgrounds, cultures, and values.

Aw, diversity is just fantastic isn't it?

I love that there is so much religious diversity among the blogs I follow, and the blogs of those whom read ISC. And while I will not open up that can of worms that is politics, I have no problem opening up religion for discussion.


Religion fascinates me. It always has. How various groups of people and individuals make sense of this earth (in both past history and present day.) What people perceive their purpose of life to be. What they determine to be "good" and "evil." How they believe we came to be on this earth? If we are even here!

Fascinating stuff.

And I am not just talking about Judeo-Christian philosophies. But, other organized religions like Buddhism, Jainism, or even Sikhism. I also get a huge kick out of talking with Atheists.

(Note: "Atheists," should not be confused with "Agnostic" persons (a common misunderstanding.) "Atheists" believe in certainty that there is absolutely no higher power or deity. On the other hand, "Agnostics" aren't too sure what to think. They do not believe in anything in certainly and might allow for many different possibilities or philosophies.)



Andrew and I have been discussing recently which religion, or religious philosophies we would like to instill in our children. Historically, I have always held the idea that I would instill various values in my children, not necessarily religion. However, recently we have been exploring that wondrous place that is that land of organized religion. Attempting to think as a future parent, I began to ponder the possibility that perhaps my own religious/spiritual development is not quite finished.

So, I was hoping for a few comments regarding your religious philosophy. Perhaps suggestions of ideologies to look into. Certainly don't comment if you are uncomfortable doing so (some cultures/societies dictate that people should feel uncomfortable discussing religion and I am empathetic to that concern.)

And please, do not even bother making a rude or disrespectful comment towards myself, another reader, or towards another faith or religion. I will not publish it.

Also if you are trying to recruit me for your cult, don't bother. I guarantee you would not want a LOUD-outspoken-opinionated woman like me, who refuses to conform to societal expectations, anywhere near your naive and vulnerable followers.

"Cause if you never open the can of worms, they just sit on the shelf in your pantry.

And who wants that?!" - Me

Ooh La La!

Am I Right? Isn't this new design just fabulous!? ;)

Don't forget to grab my button (over on your right.) Plop that code in your blog and let everyone know that they should check me out.

"Ooh la la!" - Was the first thing I told Danielle when she showed me this layout she had designed for me. What do you guys think?


I think it is so much easier to read. Certainly more visually appealing/stimulating. I can just feel myself wanting to "spend" more time here and blog more often. And thankfully, my vacation from school is tumbling towards me at a breakneck speed. Yay. (So, stay tuned for more frequent posts in the coming weeks.)

Today I finished up two of my three big projects for the week...Now I just have the third one looming over me until Friday night at 5:30pm - I am re-taking the dreaded GRE. My scores must improve over the first time I took the test, or it will probably be "fat chance" of my being accepted to the Ph.D. program.

I have not studied for it nearly enough. And I am, frankly, not prepared. Therefore I am stressed to the gills, dreading the fact that I might have sabotaged the next five years of my life.

If I can't be a Mom, this program is the next best thing for me.

So, cross your fingers from 5:30-9:30pm, East Coast time this Friday!
And send all the thoughts/prayers/karma you can muster.

I need all the help I can get!

Here Compass, Compass...

"Disclaimer: This ride could suck. It could be so bad, you wished it sucked."

If God staffed attorneys, I envision this would be among the disclaimers in the miles of pre-birth paperwork individual souls signed before their dramatic entrances on earth. Another line (I'm just sure) those attorneys slipped in, is:

“Some of you will be given a compass upon your entrance to earth (your 'compass status' will be chosen entirely at random.) If you are so lucky to receive a compass, please note: Life will almost certainly flip you over, spin you around 754 degrees, grab your compass, bury it in the middle of the desert, turn around, knock you down, and then - when you are lying on the ground (dazed and confused) - Life will kick you a few times for good measure.

Be forewarned, if you should ever retrieve your compass from the desert, Life reserves every right to smash it with a hammer...”

I have been extremely busy lately, struggling to hang in there during the home stretch of this semester's class work. Deadlines for three large projects looming at the beginning of next week. Next Friday, I am scheduled to take the GRE for the second time. However, I have not spent nearly enough time studying for it, so most likely my scores will be the same (or worse...maybe they will go down.)

This is disappointing to me, because after I figured a few things out, my head has been a little straighter more clear. I have been more accepting of the fact that being a mom just is not in the cards for me - at least, not for a few years. And so I am determined to get into the Ph.D program I now have my heart set on.

But then, life has its own ideas about the way things should go...

My roommate called me today while I was at the grocery store. And though she had been cautiously optimistic that her battle with Ovarian Cancer was behind her, today she received some unwanted news from her Oncologist.

I know enough, to know, that I am ignorant when it comes to talking with people regarding their life threatening illness.

For most other concerns, I am usually a good person for others to talk with when they are feeling down or confused. I have been told that I am approachable, kind and comforting. I feel that people think these things about me because I (usually) can find ways to relate with them over what they are going through. But I DO NOT RELATE WITH CANCER. I do not relate to living with a disease that might kill me. I do not relate with all of the internal conflicts and fears that must go along with that disease. And I cannot begin to guess how different types of cancers cause their own distinct intricacies. I know enough, to know, that people with cancer do not want to hear that I "understand." Because I do not understand.

In the time that I have known her, I have tried to be sensitive to the fact that her ovarian cancer took her ovaries away from her, as well as the possibility of having a biological child. I even took the extra step of keeping my feminine hygiene products out of sight in the bathroom cabinet, because I know (sometimes) small things like that, still sting for her.

One night, not too terrible long ago, I even thought about telling her about this blog. But then, knowing that if she was not in just the right mood, she might feel defensive and say (or think,) "Well, at least you still have your ovaries!" And she is right. I do. I am not entirely sure they are functional, but at least I still have them.

I feel like cancer is similar to infertility in the way that some people try to be sensitive, but really do not understand: When women "whine" about their pregnancy, or "complain" about those four long months it took them to conceive little Billy, it is like a punch to the gut of the woman with infertility. Or, when people suggest to a woman struggling to conceive that she "just adopt..." Well, do not get me started. Apples to oranges. It is not the same. Infertility is a concept I can relate to. And even though I have no direct experience with the feelings that hit you every "failed" month, I am prepared for the road ahead of me.

Because of my familiarity with the insensitivity of persons speaking about infertility, I do not want to be like those people who suggest inappropriate/insensitive things.

And since I am a research freak, I have done a fair bit of reading tonight online about, "how to help a friend when they have cancer." But it does not really apply to me/us. I have not known my roommate long. We met through Craigslist last August when she needed to rent one of the rooms in her two-bedroom apartment. We mainly connect on the issues of wanting children and politics. That is pretty much it. We have never really hung out outside of our house. Our schedules are different and she is not really around when I am at home. I left a message on her voicemail earlier to tell her I would be at the library working late (um...yes, I am working now...just not on what I am suppose to be working on...crap.) But on her voicemail, I did the one thing all of my online sources advice against doing. I left a general statement of, "Let me know if there is anything I can do..."

Blah.

I am suppose to offer something specific in order to help her. Not a general offer. Why does cancer make people crazy? Why does cancer turn usually competent and considerate people into self-preserving ding bats?

If you have advice on ways to help a roommate out who is living with Ovarian Cancer, please fill me in. I am not sure where this journey is going to take us.

I really wish I had my compass back.

Sincerely,

Ding Bat Suzanne

Today is For...

Reminding myself of just how lucky/fortunate/blessed I have been this past year. I am thankful for the many triumphs and near failures I have endured. I look ahead to future opportunities and people (maybe, babies?) I haven't yet had the pleasure of meeting/cuddling.

Comic Relief

I recently discovered Sarah Haskins and I find her absolutely hilarious. All of her "Target Women" sketches are about the absurd messages various marketing campaigns use on women...as well as the societal pressures women face. I've been laughing my ass off since I discovered her comedic talents. It's all very applicable to the conflicts I feel on a daily basis.

For your viewing pleasure: Sarah Haskins in
Target Women

Just a Mom?

From the time I was a very little girl, all I ever knew that I wanted to be when I grew up - was a mom. My dream has always been, just to be a mom.

No glitz, no glam. I just wanted to be a: Covered in baby spit up, forgot to take a shower for the last three days, coordinated the drop off my 4-year-old at preschool while simultaneously picking up my pre-teen from elementary school with a temperature of 100° F, can't remember my own name when introduced to new people because it's just "mom" now, MOM!





As a child, I never fantasied about my wedding. I never agonized over what my husband would look like. I never recall pretending I was a successful attorney, or doctor, business woman or politician (except for very hollow attempts at dramatic play). My childhood fantasies very much revolved around the expectations I would have as a mother.

For example, I loved to ponder the best and most appropriate developmental techniques for shaping the desired behavior in young children. And I certainly had strong opinions about the best way my parents should be raising/disciplining myself and my younger sister.

My mom once told me the following story: I must have been around 3 or 4-years-old and had deliberately lied to her (about something) and for punishment I was going to be spanked. She grabbed and attempted to restrain me. And that's when I looked her straight in the eye and said, "You know spanking me will only make me scared of you. Be a good mom and talk to me about what I've done."

At least, that's how the story goes these days.

Ever since then, it's been second nature for me to question parental practices. To want to absorb every tiny bit of knowledge related to infants, children and adolescents, that I possibly can.

If you had happened to see me in a physician's waiting room when I was age 8 or above, I would be doing the exact same thing I would be doing today, in my mid-to-late-twenties: 1) Picking up the first "Parents", or "Parenting" magazine that I can get my hands on. Or, 2) Smiling and waving at any human being under the age of seven that I can make eye-contact with.

Just try responding next time someone asks you what your dream in life is:

"I want to be a mom."

"Just a mom?" They'll surely respond...

"Yes.

Just a mom..."