Really, I'm not a very angry person...I've always had other pursuits. However, nothing makes me more angry than those stick figure family stickers. I cannot explain it.
I will be driving along, listenin' to my jams, all happy-go-lucky, and then I spot them.
I begin to feel it. The kind of wrath that makes me understand why it's one of the 7 deadly sins.
My blood boils. My face reddens. I have to fight the urge to not flip the person driving the vehicle off all because of stickers. This started before I knew I was infertile, so I can't blame infertility for this...it's totally unjustifiable.
Nobody cares how many children you have, what gender they are, what their hobbies are, and God forbid their names...
It's like you are a mobile advertisement for pedophiles and child-nappers...just sayin'...
The only other thing in my life that makes me this angry is Canada. Also, inexplicable. It's like an innate rage. It is completely unjustified (well, ok, the Opening Ceremonies where they had a beat poet kind of begins to justify it, but other than that I have no justification). And no, I don't hate Canadians, the country's simple existence just makes me angry...I guess I have issues.
I wish I could be angrier at things that would...I don't know...make a little sense...be channeled into something that could make a difference...But no...
I get asked if I'm angry at women that get pregnant, especially when they aren't necessarily pillars of the community. "Doesn't it make you angry when crack-whores get pregnant?". Not particularly...It has no effect on me what-so-ever. There is no limit on the number of people who can get pregnant in a given month so it's not like I'm competing with anyone but my own broken damn parts.
If I've learned anything, it's that life is messy, complicated, twisted, unfair, but if you fight for it...it's wonderful, too. Today for instance. It was 70 degrees, my husband was working in the back-yard, I was plotting out the grocery list and my sweet, golden retriever, Emma Grace, was swimming in our pool, and romping around loving every minute of our attention. If this is the only family I ever know as a 30-something adult, it's pretty pleasant. It's not my ideal, it's not perfect, but it's wonderful. My heart swells when I think of our little family, that may or may not ever grow.
Peace, Love, & Forgiving Canada for Existing,
MK
I will be driving along, listenin' to my jams, all happy-go-lucky, and then I spot them.
I begin to feel it. The kind of wrath that makes me understand why it's one of the 7 deadly sins.
My blood boils. My face reddens. I have to fight the urge to not flip the person driving the vehicle off all because of stickers. This started before I knew I was infertile, so I can't blame infertility for this...it's totally unjustifiable.
Nobody cares how many children you have, what gender they are, what their hobbies are, and God forbid their names...
It's like you are a mobile advertisement for pedophiles and child-nappers...just sayin'...
The only other thing in my life that makes me this angry is Canada. Also, inexplicable. It's like an innate rage. It is completely unjustified (well, ok, the Opening Ceremonies where they had a beat poet kind of begins to justify it, but other than that I have no justification). And no, I don't hate Canadians, the country's simple existence just makes me angry...I guess I have issues.
I wish I could be angrier at things that would...I don't know...make a little sense...be channeled into something that could make a difference...But no...
I get asked if I'm angry at women that get pregnant, especially when they aren't necessarily pillars of the community. "Doesn't it make you angry when crack-whores get pregnant?". Not particularly...It has no effect on me what-so-ever. There is no limit on the number of people who can get pregnant in a given month so it's not like I'm competing with anyone but my own broken damn parts.
If I've learned anything, it's that life is messy, complicated, twisted, unfair, but if you fight for it...it's wonderful, too. Today for instance. It was 70 degrees, my husband was working in the back-yard, I was plotting out the grocery list and my sweet, golden retriever, Emma Grace, was swimming in our pool, and romping around loving every minute of our attention. If this is the only family I ever know as a 30-something adult, it's pretty pleasant. It's not my ideal, it's not perfect, but it's wonderful. My heart swells when I think of our little family, that may or may not ever grow.
Peace, Love, & Forgiving Canada for Existing,
MK
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