[7 min read] I spent the day off with a good friend of mine who has a 9 mo. old. We spent the day at the art museum and it was beautiful. We both hadn’t been in so long and both love art. I was fully present as we meandered through the halls and galleries for hours. It was glorious because I didn’t even think about systems or parts or any of that. Just art and meaningful conversation. I held her baby often while she needed to adjust or take a break etc. I’ve gotten quite used to helping my friends with kids. My friend has always wanted kids and I remember us discussing trying for a baby before her and her husband got pregnant. I was trying with my husband at the time too. But, by the grace of god, though I haven’t been on any form of birth control in over a decade, I’ve never gotten pregnant.
We grabbed ice cream afterwards and I watched my friend and her baby share a cone and it was adorable. I always take a ton of pictures for my friends with their kiddos because they love that and I snapped some great ones from today. <3
Watching her w/ her baby, I could feel the warmth, the love, the happiness and joy. I felt it straight to my core, like I did at the lakehouse a few weeks ago with my other friends and their kiddo. Part of it, is the recognition of love I feel like I am incapable of feeling. Part of it is my feeling about family and kids in general.
After I said goodbye for the evening, I came home feeling exhausted. All I could feel was wanting to disappear, disassociate, and just block out the world. Before I settled into that comfortable routine I thought I’d try and sit with my feelings.
Right now, I want nothing more than to light up or get drunk, but I promised myself I would try harder to be with my feelings…no matter how badly it hurts. One of my DID friends said being present, in fact, can be very exhausting so not to worry if I need self time. And that’s when I discovered a few things. I do need the self time. And, I have some very real and complex feelings about having kids.
Suddenly, I felt enormously sad. So I sat and looked inward to see what was happening and it’s the first time I’ve understood myself in this way on this particular topic.
The Loved, actually wants to have kids. In fact, she yearns for it.
I have always told people either I was on the fence or actively did not want kids. This is the first time in my life I’ve recognized an actual deep yearning for having children and it is incredibly painful.
Because, the other parts in my system, don’t feel the same way.
Some actively do not want kids, the Armored – hard pass, the Deviant – no way, the Achiever – pass, the Host, Dreamer – both ambivalent. The Twins? Probably not a good idea, too broken. The Little? No clue but wouldn’t mind a friend eventually.
Here’s the problem. I can barely take care of myself. And as I stare at this long and painful journey working through my trauma I can’t imagine a scenario in which I will have the time in the near future to be available enough for a child. I can’t explain to a baby or a child that mom needs to be by herself for a full day to work through her shit. Can you imagine? And I know, for a fact, I would need that. I don’t do well when I don’t have my mental health/self-care breaks and sometimes I will need those for hours or days even. Maybe that’ll change, but I don’t see it happening any time soon.
So, there we are, these parts of mine who are typically cold or indifferent, sitting on a bench next to The Loved and explaining this to her. Telling her that it’s just likely not for us. And I can see her, head in hands, sobbing. She is trying to accept it, but it hurts, and it’s beyond painful to come to that realization. To admit, that though it’s not necessarily our fault; we are likely too broken to care that completely for anyone else, not now anyway, maybe not ever. So even if our system was in complete agreement that we wanted kids, it’s not a good idea and it may not even be physically possible for us.
One of the last topics my friend and I chatted about today was our futures. And as I sat there talking about how cool it would be for me to become a traveling artist, maybe a travel writer. All I could picture was me, by myself, alone. That’s what I picture in my future; just me with no one else beside me. And though the image actually conjures up some form of peace, in retrospect, it sounds incredibly lonely.
Is that because I was broken coming into this world? Or is it because that’s always been my destiny?
Maybe it’s just who I am.