Sunday, February 22, 2009

back to me

Well, that was as downer, but I'm feeling a lot better now.

Yesterday morning involved an actual real Rocking On The Floor experience, which if ever there was a medically sound indication of actually and really Losing Your Shit, that would be it, and that's when I came here and cried "SOS!", and seconds later there were Real Live People caring and my god, I canNOT tell you how much that helped, suffice to say, it helped A LOT.

So thank you. Thank you so very much.

Friday night, in a seemingly unrelated segue, my dumbass stroller had ANOTHER flat tyre like, the very same night we'd collected it from the repairer ie Strep.

He escapes into his own delusions of Poor Me way. too. regularly, yes, but he's proving to be a total kickass when it comes to fixing tangible problems like fucked up stroller tyres, which he's had to do four (FOUR) times this past week or so.

Translation: good thing I texted him a week prior to the Stroller Saga, because THAT text opened the channels of communication (Again!) and when he said "let's catch up!", I said "Sure! And by the way, I got a flat last night...", and then he beat his chest with his fists and promised to fix it.

Win win, really.

That happened three more times because for whatever reason, my dumbass stroller keeps getting leaks in its dumbass right sided inner tube whatsit it's man slash cyclist thing I have no idea wtf.

The second to last time, he took the fucking thing for a COMPLETE overhaul, because jaysus, three times already?! So Thursday, Strep grabbed the stroller from our house, and on Friday we went to his house to collect what appeared to be a brand new stroller. Clean, shiny and oiled, with new wheels and new tyres that had even been blacked. Long, low whistles ensued, then we stayed a while, and Daniel about lost his mind because giant beanbag + his father = So! Much! Fun!, then he (Daniel, not Strep) fell asleep in the car on the way home, and I transferred him to the stroller and took it for a test drive.

Which went well until I got a puncture on the LEFT side (srsly, wtf?) an entire HALF HOUR from home. I was on the phone with a friend at the time and the conversation went something like this:

me: "bla bla bla"

tyre: "kerpthlrrrrrrrrrr".


Mark was all "I'll come get you!" and I was all "fuck that shit, man. I'm stripping the tyre OFF and we're going home on the RIM".

Which no matter how you word it and for whatever reason, sounds unreasonably porny.

Which is a slice of my mind you probably didn't want to know about BUT WHATEVER.

I walked home with my phone plastered to one ear and cuss words like you wouldn't believe being delivered through the airwaves, and the moulded plastic tyre rim was SHREDDED, and we got home, my friend hung up, and I called Strep and said "hi, GUESS WHAT?!".

So we organised to catch up again and have him fix it again sometime on Saturday.

Which is where the seemingly unrelated bits becomes related.

That annoying at the time puncture allowed me to be not alone yesterday, and it allowed me to not look blankly at my son and wonder how I was going to look after him.

The whole flat tyre deal has been pissing me off monumentally, and in the end, the whole saga now has shown itself to be a part of the Bigger Picture I couldn't see while in the midst of it because god help me, flat tyres are ANNOYING.

So deep!

But, peoples, there IS a bigger picture in re The Repeated Pattern Of Loss my life has taken on for, oh, FOREVER, I just can't see it.

WE ALL have a bigger picture, even those who don't even believe in that crap.

You can rarely see it when you're IN it, so I suppose life is a series of Getting It in hindsight, because you don't know, you CAN'T know the lesson or appreciate the opportunity waiting or understand the value of an experience, until it's passed.

And I'm essentially a contented person, no matter how fucking sad I am now, because even with the shit repeatedly hitting the fan, and even with the hopelessness I'm feeling, what I KNOW, is it isn't my LIFE, it's just STUFF.

This might sound like wank, but I know too, that I'm SO lucky to be able to keep standing back up and asking life to hand me more stuff to dook it out with, because I'd rather feel shit NOW about things I have control over - because I CHOOSE to pursue answers about my fertility, so these losses don't just HAPPEN to me - than feel shit about things when I NO LONGER have control over them. I'd rather mourn the loss of a dream as I'm pursuing it, than mourn the chances I never took.


Then we left Strep's place to go my acupuncture appointment, the one I'd made because acupuncture at the time of transfer significantly increases conception rates (so does, anecdotaly [anecdotally?] at least, SEX), and the quivering bottom lip and heartachey angst welled up again.

My acupuncturist did some pranic healing though, and used points to calm me the fuck down, and the whole time Daniel pottered around the room like The Awesome he is, playing with his Acupuncture Guy's Feng Shui coins ("Look! I got da monies!") and being so calm and happy and he's ALWAYS so reliable when it comes to minding his own when I'm doing my own, and here I am, feeling a WHOLE lot better and sounding even more like a flowerchild hippy than you already THOUGHT I was.

2005-2007© aibee