Fuck the Bright Side

That crazy ass sillhouette chick up there? The one I daydream about hanging out with over frothy adult beverages? I still wager that she makes a kick ass margarita. Well, I stared at her for a bit wondering if her girlie parts worked properly. After deciding that they did, I stabbed her repeatedly in the cooch with my little cursor arrow. It was cathartic. And she didn't even get mad at me because she's got my fucking back like that.

The weird thing about this whole Miscarriage Mess I'm experiencing these days is that some folks want to look at the bright side of it. And, well, I don't. Not yet. Forgive me if I can't seem to find solace in the fact that at least it's happening early or that now I know I can get pregnant. Well, actually, I have to laugh a little at my fertility. I guess Zube Boy CAN glance my way and I'm pregnant. Three times in seven months. It's just that the little buggers fall out. So, laughable maybe, because not much escapes my scathing humor. But, comforting? No. Not in the least.

This 'looking on the bright side of things' got me thinking about rape. When people say to me something to the effect of, "Well at least blah blah blah...It could be worse," it makes me want to say, "Would you say to a rape survivor, 'Well, at least you didn't get pregnant?' or, 'Well, at least you weren't kidnapped and raped repeatedly?' or, ad nauseum?" No. At least, you shouldn't say those things. Rape is fucking horrible no matter how you spin it. So is this miscarriage business.

I'm not saying that people don't say all the wrong things to rape survivors. They do. I know. The moral of the story is this: People don't like to see other people sad and they try sometimes to look on the bright side of things in the hopes that the person hurting will feel better. Which, well, their intentions are good, but you know what they say about good intentions and the road to hell and all. What people don't seem to realize is that sad is just one step on the journey towards healing. And if that step is taken away, or if the journeying person skips it because they feel undeserving of sadness? The journey will be incomplete. And I've been there, done that. The journey CAN eventually be completed. It's just much tougher when you have to go back to square one years after you thought you were on the verge of HEALED.

I was talking to Hoot the other day and I was explaining this to her. She said, and I've never felt prouder, "One of the millions of things I've learned from you is never to judge someone's sad experiences. Whatever is their most sad thing at the time is their most sad thing at the time. Just let them be sad about it." Aw.

And it's true. I remember approximately ten Februarys ago, sitting in my dorm room contemplating whether I wanted a future of custody battles with a rapist or one without the child of a rapist in it. I heard a knock at my door, and yelled, "Come in!" It was a girl from down the hall that I knew fairly well, but not well enough to tell her what was on my mind at the time. She started tearfully explaining how she was caught in a Love Triangle and didn't know which guy to choose. At first, I wanted to be kind of pissed because I had bigger and badder things on my mind. And then I was like, "What the hell good would it do to get pissed and spout of something like, 'Oh yeah, you don't even KNOW what indecision is!' That'd only make her feel guilty and why should she have? She was crying and stressed, and, well, that IS a pretty big decision." I don't know. I guess you could say I learned an important lesson that day.

What I'm trying to say, more to myself than to anyone else, and in a rather disorganized fashion, if you ask me, is that THIS is my most sad thing right now. And I'm NOT going to think about how much worse it could be. I don't need to. Because it's bad enough and if I think about it in terms of me being lucky, that'll only serve the purpose of making me feel guilty for feeling bad. And I shouldn't feel guilty about that. I know better now.

I felt guilty for feeling bad ten years ago. I thought I should be over it. Recovered. I was lucky. I was alive. I was young. I was cute and in college and had my whole damn life ahead of me. So, I pretended I was all good. I rocked my combat boots and baby barrettes and laughed and smiled and played along. Only underneath, I wasn't all good. And pretending to be all good fueled by guilt only put off the REAL healing about five years or so. Too damn long.

So, with three miscarriages under my belt, I'm going to mourn that for as long as feels right. Until I say enough with the mourning; I'm done. Until I want to look on the bright side. Because I will. When I'm ready. And not a day sooner.

PS- You guys rock. That is all.