Specifically, June is a black numinous kick to the head. More aptly put, the anniversary of the unraveling of everything that I thought defined me and the beginning of the metamorphosis to the person I am now, or the person I am slowly evolving to be. I can't decide if the "sculpting" has been finished or if I'm still just a work in progress - a blob of soft, but quickly hardening clay that some deity has cast aside because She's grown bored working on it and isn't sure anyway what to do with it - maybe I'm an ashtray.
So time and time again feel I need to put my bruised and battered nature into a dark place, just to punish myself a little teensy bit more. Had I missed a sign? Because, obviously, the Universe was one pissed of broad and, damn it, she wasn't going to take this shit any longer. It was time for me to pay for my insolence.
You're going to find this really amusing...I used to believe if you lead an ethical life, if you cared about your fellow man, did good deeds and worked hard, you would be rewarded. What? You mean it's all about luck of the draw and ego? What the hell? Did I miss a meeting? I didn't get any memo!
For months after "it" I felt I was being punished. In the span of 24 hours, I had to have emergency surgery to remove half my inner-bits because of a grotesque whomper of a cyst that had been growing on my left ovary - undetected by my doctor even though I had complained time and time again of classic endo symptoms. I was told that my remaining inner-bits were, shall we say, pretty damn gimpy. I was diagnosed with a horrific "condition" that's barely treatable and certainly not curable. And the jackpot, I could not, under any circumstances, NO- don't even try to be optimistic about it, have my own children. I can say with a good deal of certainty that I can one-up any "bad day" out there.
I hate summer and that memory.
My poor, sweet husband. He didn't sign up to marry a woman with gimpy bits who couldn't provide him with a child!! He got bitch-slapped by the Universe too and I have to remind myself of that at times, this didn't just happen to me.
So now Mark and I are adopting a little one from China. Would we be adopting if we could have our own? Probably not. Do I think this adoption is "destiny"? Maybe, or maybe it's just occasionally you get thrown a bone. One thing for sure, I don't ever, under any circumstances, want her to feel or even slightly perceive this self-induced angst from me. I'm really going to work on exercising my demons. This is one story that she doesn't need to hear, at least not for a long, long time.
Thank God for my husband. At least with him, she has a fighting chance of being normal.
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