a life in plans

It started years ago.  When I was just learning to walk.  I declared something or other, with great passion and conviction.  I’m sure.  And years later, I guarantee you, my parents related it at some dark bar to a rapt, amused audience.  How Poudre said this when she was 2.  My father with his impression of my voice.  Dead on.

“Mama…I’m gonna…”  <insert xyz>  To Mama’s amusement.

Every week, I seemed to have a new passion and reason for being.  Sometimes, it was the perfect soft-serve ice cream.  Sometimes, it was the perfect shade of blue.  Sometimes, it was this game where you wear a plastic mit–sort of like a long catcher’s mit…but not–and you threw this plastic ball that seemed somehow magically attracted to said mit.  Back and forth.  Yea…that.

(I don’t know what that game was, but I really want to find it and play with someone someday).

So, clearly, I’m just a woman on a mission.  Always.

Many, many missions.

My current mission: grad school.  Well, that’s one.  And it’s so close to being over, but–my God…I’m tired.  I’m starting to dread all the days.  I just want to make myself a gin & tonic at the end of a boring, long day and fall asleep while watching The Bachelorette–after I’ve sufficiently mocked it.  I mean.

(See that little mock…oh, c’mon! You know you watch Andi).

My other mission is getting my crap together.  Which I’m not doing horribly at–or maybe I am, sometimes–but I’m at least trying.

In any case, part of that means that I’m back to seeing a naturopath (in addition to my doctor-doctor).  This one was recommended by my therapist, and she does all kinds of whacky things that I’m not completely sure about always.  I feel better, usually, afterwards in any case.  I like her.  She reminds me of the big sister I never had.  One who gets grad school because she’s a freakin’ doctor…yes, a doctor naturopath.  So, we chat while I’m under lasers and things.

It’s good.  I’m making big changes.

Mostly, I started seeing her because my actual doctor wasn’t really doing much for a couple of major problems I have: PCOS and adrenal fatigue.  With PCOS, the main treatment is a drug that really, really messed me up.  The adrenal fatigue is sorta all enmeshed with everything else, so while a supplement helps, until I get my PCOS and the thyroid together, I’m probably gonna be dealing with it.  There’s hope on the thyroid front.  So, now, to address PCOS.

When I first mentioned PCOS to my naturopath on my very first visit, she immediately asked if I wanted to get pregnant.  Because PCOS causes infertility.

I gotta admit…I couldn’t find the words to actually answer her question.  It just felt really final and personal.  And then I had this weird out-of-body experience where I basically babbled on about needing to find the right guy and not having room right now–but that YES….yes, eventually.


She didn’t make a big deal out of it, but I was making a big deal.  My off-kilter voice cracking into awkward oblivion clearly made that known.


My mother had a lot of fertility problems.  She probably had PCOS and maybe other things.  I’m not sure.  While my mother could tell me all kinds of gory details, medical diagnoses were different.  Now, I’m learning that maybe I inherited all of these things from her…and I’m kind of pissed I really don’t know anything beyond the stories of extreme whatever.

Are there records I could look up?  I wouldn’t even know where to begin.  More shadows and boogeymen.  And nothing left.

It’s exhausting.

Maybe I could have avoided things had I been told the truth about things.  I dunno.  It upsets me.

But there’s really nothing for me to do, really, except clean up my own health and do what I can for myself now.

Still, every week that I go see the naturopath, I remember that high pitched croak of a conversation about me being 35–36 in less than a month now–and babies.


To be honest, as busy as I am…I’m bored.  I feel like I’m just staying put–stable, but not really going anywhere I want to go.  And yes–stable is good.  It’s better than most of the places I’ve been.  But I need to change things.  Soon.  Or figure out a way to make now feel less like walking in circles.  I feel like my heart is shriveling up.  I’m just pushing and pushing to finish–not really caring as much as I should about what I’m finishing.

As for work, it is what it is.  And while I want to change it…the time to do it without losing other things just isn’t there as long as I’m in school.

So–crazy me…I’ve decided to take some courses while I take a break from courses this fall…to accelerate the whole changing this sooner rather than later thing.

But–honestly–I’m tired of putting up with the wrong things while I manifest the right things.  It would be tolerable if I had some sort of passion to indulge every day, but these things suck me dry.  I know…I know…it’s only till September.  But 2 months is all it took for my mother to go from living till 90 to dying at 67.


My heart–if  choose to listen to it–is with quieter things.  I miss my friends.  I miss the family I haven’t had in a long time.  I miss the passion I used to feel about everything–when every day wasn’t just about getting through it…it was about loving every second and feeling so lucky to be there.

I’m 35, and time is ticking.  So much time.  Always.  And I’m so exhausted, most days, I just want to sleep through it.

And I want family–babies–a husband…a life that is more than this.  Full of heartfelt declarations and the courage to back it the Hell up.

Because this–as much as it seems like something–feels like nothing right now.

So why am I waiting for them to show up?

If only it was as easy as asking.

Not that I’m remotely ready for any of those things.

Perhaps, that’s the lesson…I have to find peace in now before any other tomorrow can be promised.

And life will give me what I need–even when I don’t know I need it.

Don’t worry.  I’m still walking.  One foot in front of the other–even with tied laces.


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