stop giving me choices…

i think i may well have written this or something like it about a dozen times in the last 8 or 9 years.

that may not seem excessive, but when i add to that the fact that it’s running aound in my head pretty much every day, it gets repetitive.

almost everyone i know has found their one, with relative ease it seems. they’re all settled & happy, which is wonderful.
but i’m that desperate woman in her 30’s who’s womb is a time bomb.

and i get it, i’m not the most captivating prospect. i’m difficult. i’m too old & dated too many fuckwits to put up with even the tiniest hint of bullshit.

i’m mental. really, properly mental. if you’re in any doubt scroll back through a few posts.

i’m covered in scars. literally covered in them. that’s not a hot look in anyone’s book. actually, i don’t think that’s really the issue with the scars. it’s what they signify rather than how they look. they’re scary. i get that.

this isn’t a oh no, i’m a pariah, no one loves me thing. i know i’m not repulsive. i can be pretty damn sexy & on my better days i’m a cool person.

that may be part of the problem. i know who i am
and i undeniably know what i want.

try as might, almost, just isn’t good enough.

i have gone out with a fair few lovely men. smart, attractive, funny blah, blah, blah
but
they don’t set my world alight
to be as cliched as fuck, there are no butterflies.

i’m lucky. i’m grateful.
i have extraordinary friends.
a close, loving family.
a bloody roof over my head.
i have a lot.
i know.

i want more.

folk are so supportive. they tell me how fantastic i am. how much i deserve my happy ending. i’m sure you’ve all heard this stuff at some point.
it’s never too late
there’s someone for everyone
you just haven’t met the right person.

of course the glaringly obvious point is, i have.
i have met him.
i’ve known him
&
laughed with him
&
fucked him
&
loved him
for years. for forever, really.

i know he’s the right man.
he’s an integral part of my life. a person who gets me through some really shitty times in his own undemonstrative way.
the only man i could realistically see myself being happy with
the only man who ever made me feel i was in movie love.
the only man who didn’t tire of my weirdness
and
matches me pound for pound with his own variety of odd.

my friend. my lover.
the man i can not have.

there’s that biological clock
&
it’s deafening.
the desire for a child is all encompassing
time is running out
i’ve spent too long being crazy
&
dating the wrong men
&
trying to be brave enough to try again.

there aren’t any years left to waste.
i have to get my life in order
and
do it.

that probably means i’ll be having a baby on my own
i suppose that should be terrifying
it isn’t
i’m not scared in the slighest
raising a child feels inherently right
i can not comprehend of a life in which i am not a mother

he can’t conceive a future in which he is father.

i can’t have both
we talk abstractly about what we’re giving up
if we’d met earlier
if we both weren’t so damaged
how happy we could be together.
if. if. if.
those conversations occupy my mind
sometimes.
they circle my thoughts before i fall asleep.
but
that circle isn’t never ending
i can not have both
that’s were this love story ends.

i’ve made my decision.
i believe it’s the right one
it’s not simple
or
painless
it is unequivocal.

i think i have always held romanitc notions of fate.
it never occured to me that destiny would be so cruel.
that’s life.
you roll your dice
you make your choices.

i know you care…

You’ll never read this. You will never know how much I love you. How much I would sacrifice for you will remain unsaid. It doesn’t mean it’s not real. Not saying it out loud won’t prevent me from going to sleep with thoughts of you every night. Even when I’m not alone, my last waking moments are filled with you.

I compare every man I encounter to you. They never meet the grade. I don’t know if you will ever stop being my measuring stick. It’s not because I consider you perfect. I see your faults. You drive me crazy. It doesn’t matter. I see you and you’re what I want.

It’s such a cliché, but I’ve never known anyone who made me feel the way you do. Every time you kiss me is as exciting as the first time. The slightest touch, that stern look, the sound of my name on your lips and I melt. And the sex, oh god, I will miss the sex. I never want you to stop talking. I will always want to know more. I devour your details. You make me feel like the me I used to love. I’m smarter & funnier & kinder & sexier in your company. When your eyes fall on me, I feel real. I feel like I am worth something. I’m not sure that you even know that. I wish I could find the words to tell you.

I hid all my dirty secrets from you, thinking you’d run. You never did. You accepted things you never wanted to and you haven’t held it against me. You know how truly fucked up I am, but you still see the whole picture. You’re there for me in quiet ways. You don’t send flowers or make a fuss. You know when I’m desperate. You know which two strokes of the keyboard can reach me. A genuinely nice man is hard to find, but you are. No matter how hard to try to hide it or shirk it, I know.

I’m pretty sure you see right through me & you’re not half as opaque as you believe you are. I could be happy with you. You don’t want to admit that you need anyone at all, but I’m almost certain you could be happy with me too. I don’t want anything much from you. All I’d need is for you to keep being odd & charming & difficult & honest. I’d do everything within my power not to hurt you. I’d never ask you to be anyone, but who you are. I don’t need you to slog away in a job that makes you miserable. Do whatever you like. I don’t want your money. I’d never ask you to take care of me in that way. I’m not that woman. You know that.

I know how futile this is. I am aware that none of this matters because there’s one obstacle we could never overcome. You do not want to be a father. Playing happy families is not for you. Sadly, if there’s one thing I want more than you, it’s a child. My heart pines for you, but every cell in my body aches for baby. It’s not your fault. You’ve never deceived me or given me false hope. I had oh so many opportunities to walk away.

I’ve tried. I really put myself out there. I’ve been on so many dates. Some of those were really cool guys. Men I saw again & tried to forge a relationship with. A couple of times I even started to consider being over you. It never lasted. Never worked. They’re never a match for you. I hold onto the hope that someone will sweep me off my feet & I will forget all about you. I wish he would hurry up because I can’t stop loving you on my own. My attempts have universally failed. At least part of me wishes for the mystical Mr right. The bigger part just drips in sadness at the thought of not being in love you. I’m still not ready to write you out of my happyily ever after.

If I can’t have you, I still want you to be happy. I want you to be loved by someone who can give you the life I can’t. I know you’ll meet someone. There is no way for me to prepare for that. It will tear me in two, but we can’t continue like this forever.

Just don’t let her shrink you. Don’t keep doing things that make you unhappy to please someone else. Don’t conform to her tastes. Please don’t let a woman tame you again. You don’t belong in a tight little box. That’s not love. You have edge. Always keep your edge.

I will never tell you that you are the love of my life. I will most likely never know exactly how you feel about me. That’s probably for the best because there is nothing you could say that would make it better. I know you care. That is enough.

i’m longing for your heartbeat…

Dear Baby,
You wouldn’t be a baby anymore. You would be 13 today. It’s hard to imagine the life we would have together now. I think about you, I create little scenarios for each milestone. I ache for every step you haven’t taken. I wonder if I could have been enough for you. As it stands you only have me, but you’ll have me forever.
The strange thing is I didn’t stop being a mother because you didn’t make into this world. I’ve always felt like your mummy & it’s hard to be a mum with no visible child. Sometimes I wish I could tell everyone I meet, I had a boy, not for long, but he’s always with me. I want people to care as much about your short life as I do. I want you to be loved.
Mostly, I need you here. I don’t know how to celebrate your birthday without you. I’ve found it impossible to separate the sadness of losing you from the miracle of creating you. I love you. I’d have done anything to carry you safely to life. I hope you know that.
love always
mum
xx

golden slumbers fill your eyes….

 

lying in bed beside her tired little body,

 

her wee hand grasping the locket around my neck

 

i feel calm.

 

looking into her eyes as she watches me sing

 

her beautiful eyes heavy with sleep,

 

slowly closing

 

drifting off to sleep to the sound of the beatles,

 

i am happy.

 

i know she feels safe

 

i have a purpose.

 

to love her

 

and

 

i do

 

i feel it.

 

it’s an actual physical warmth.

 

the emptiness is gone

 

she fills me up.

 

the lyrics i sing are true,

 

smiles do awake her when she rises,

 

she needn’t worry

 

or cry

 

she is surrounded with love.

 

i am proud of her attachment to me

 

the knowledge that i can comfort her

 

gives me hope.

 

knowing that i can soothe her

 

is my ultimate achievement.

 

this wonderful little person

 

loves me

relies on me

 

wants me.

 

there is no greater feeling.

 

i could wrap my whole life around her

 

and

 

be

 

happy.