I have to admit that most days, I still feel like I am going to die-atleast a couple of times a week, I just feel like I could pass out for no particular reason at all. I double over in pain, unsure if I’ll ever make out of this maze of doctoring. But underneath all of the pain, I am still a mother in my own way. My ovaries, they speak- in subtle undertones of waiting until I am thirty, tired, and torn- to consider having kids.
I’ve helped raise so many children that are not my own and now? They are all grown. Yet, on mothers day I rarely even imagine honoring myself. But I do think about my ovaries a lot- or they think for me sometimes. Honoring the femenine doesn’t always come from space of a modern family. A lot of dads are mom’s these days too.
Secretly I hope that someday- I’ll have a man that loves to stay home and take care of the kids, so that I can finally- just have a great career. Or atleast a man that enjoys actually being in his kids lives- that isn’t just committed to me forever- but is also deeply committed to his children.
Something I never really had- my biological father there, everyday come hell or high water. The great reason i have not had children yet myself- a deep and good reason to step back and let life present oppourtunities as they come. Instead of putting all my literal ovarian eggs in one basket hoping that someone is going to finally stay?
Eventually. Someday. Right?
But sadly most of the men I have dated- they don’t, they can’t. Or they just plain feel like they are going to get thier wings clipped by the relationship itself.
But here is the thing about that.
Females- they need thier freedom too. They need thier freedom and thier space, and thier girlhood- and thier right to run wild sometimes too. It’s not just men that deserve FREEDOM, that deserve and need space of thier own.
Not ever girl wants a career. Not every girl truly needs children. Not every girl is made- to bear a man’s children and then be left in the dust, hoping for a better answer.
I am not made to be used up, raising other people’s children- giving my compassion to those that have no sense of caring anymore. Begging others to love in compassion, is not my style, or need. Begging others to care about thier children personally- is not my job. Pleading with the great universe for a man to come home and take care of his kids, is not the path I need to make ME a better person.
It certainly doesn’t make me a happier person, it doesn’t make anybody happier or better.
But some of us in life, each are just a mother to everyone that we run into. Putting our arm around the whole world, we can’t escape the nature of the need for nurturing.
But I have to admit, I feel used up myself- too often, for all the worst things.
Time, Money, Career, but usually eventually for my mothering instinct, ability- to just do the thing, that most people don’t or can’t or refuse to do..
calm the heart of the child. bring them the safety they need to be true to the person they are, and be all of themselves- no regrets.
But do I get my own?
Nope Nope- because everyone is too scared to make a plan, and actually follow through.
Then others they’d have to step up, and admit, these patterns are abusive.