Saturday night, someone brought a baby to Jon's party. I wasn't expecting a baby. I was expecting single guys and childless couples. You know, the kind of people who will go see a midnight showing of Snakes on a Plane. Somehow, this baby caught me off guard, and I had to avoid saying anything for the next few minutes to avoid crying. Babies didn't used to make me cry. They used to instill a sense of wonder, and longing, and hope for one day, when I would have children of my own.
I guess I'm feeling pretty hopeless lately. And I haven't really been blogging much, because I think my bubbly side is much more interesting. My husband is still sick, we still don't know what's wrong, and all of those things I used to get excited planning for have been put on hold. No kids until hubby is better. No house of our own until hubby has an income again. The future doesn't excite me anymore, it just brings me down. Who wants to read about that?
So I do my best to live in the present moment only. At least inasmuch as the present moment distracts me. I actually have gotten pretty good at just enjoying camping, board games, a book, a good shift at work, a dumb movie. But it's only a temporary fix, and when the distraction ends, the feelings of helplessness and frustration come flooding back.
I miss having dreams. Oh, I still have ample bizarre nocturnal entertainment; I'm referring to the "I wanna be a pilot when I grow up" kind of dreams. When the baby's mother and I were chatting on Saturday night, my job at Starbucks came up. And all I wanted to do was defend myself and explain, "I'm a LAWYER in Canada!" like I did with all those real estate agents, engaging her empathy that someone so smart and successful like me should be cheated by the bar of Pennsylvania and denied the right to practice law, and how sad that I am being kept from my full career potential. Alternatively, I wanted to defend my decision, praise Starbucks for their benefits package and flexible scheduling, share in semi-confidence that we are planning on starting a family soon, and I'm working at Starbucks so that I can be the kind of mom I want to be.
I ended up sharing neither. "Yeah, I work at Starbucks. I really like it there." Because neither story really felt completely believable anymore. I don't picture myself practicing law again. I don't picture myself with a family, anymore. I picture myself living with my in-laws and my sick husband forever. Which is, of course, no more realistic, but it's how I feel.
I hate this negativity, and I hate that it's keeping me from blogging. I hesitate to use the word "depression" on my blog, because it either conjures up images of self-absorbed emo kids or pretends to place me in the same league as people with severely debilitating illnesses that have it so much worse than me. But you know, this life lately, it's getting me down. And I just don't have the same spring in my step as I used to, and I miss that. So go ahead and judge me for being a "poor me" blogger if you'd like. Go ahead and tell me that I'm whiny, and that other people have it so much worse than me. I'm feeling pretty poor me right now, and I thought I'd try a bit of honesty.