So by pure fluke, as all good things seem to be, I’ve joined an art journaling group for people wanting and wishing for a baby. It is facilitated by Ishara from Fertility Dreaming.
And what a freaking intense journey it is.
So we got a link to the page with the first video instructions.
I was having lots of trouble loading it… so I only scrolled through. I saw a picture of a journal on the page. The journal’s front cover was of a galaxy woman. What?!
And I got all angry that maybe it was a sign that I was in the right place… but how can it be a sign when nothing else on this baby-making journey seems to be making sense. Where are my other signs? Why would she show up there? WHY?! It feels like wayyyy too little. Galaxy Woman, I need a god-damn high-rise buildin bulletin board okay. No more of this subliminal here and there shit.
I experienced internal moosh and backed away.
The gorgeous facilitator, Ishara, gave me the best advice (I posted that I had already freaked out)…
And remember, if you are having big feelings, you can always ‘draw it out’ – just get a piece of paper (newspaper will do even) and a pen or crayon, connect to the feeling, and let it express on to the page through your arm and hand. Big movements or tight ones, doesn’t matter.. Just keep going and use as many pieces of paper as it takes until the feeling begins to dissipate.
I read that, liked it, but moved on. I had to articulate some of the mess, but art-y. So I started. And restarted. And restarted. Getting more intense and angry and overwhelmed with each restart. There had to be a flow chart. And it had to show how things were related. I could tangle or mandala in it. I get that stuff. It’ll look great. Wait, maybe some colour… Oh fuck! Fuckity, fuck fuck fuck!
I ripped them all out of my journal. I hated them all. I went back to her advice to actually reread it. Actually reread it. Word. For. Word.
Big movements or tight ones, doesn’t matter.. Just keep going
I opened up to the first page (rather than saving a page for a perfect front cover, something that I’d been weirdly attached to). And I raged. And as I was moving, with crayon on the paper, feeling my rage, my eyes started leaking. I hate this. I hate all of this so much. The whole process. I hate it.
I hate this!
I hate that Galaxy Woman shows up when she did.
I hate that I can’t access her whilst I feel like I am freaking dying here.
I hate that all the meaning I have found in this journey seems lost to me right now.
I hate that my world view is offering nothing to help with the pain and anguish.
I HATE that the timeframe has passed. The timeframe and no baby. WTF universe?!
I hate that there is so much guilt and shame.
I hate that I had a few hours of relief of this intensity, and that I liked that.
I hate that the relief is gone now and I’m back.
I hate the childhood pain it’s bringing up. And it’s bringing up a lot.
I hate the shame, the blaming, the questioning.
I hate that all answers seem to give more questions.
I hate that I’m scared, and not even sure I can actually parent at the end of all of this… as I watch friends possibly breakup…
I hate that others are pregnant. First. They don’t even want a baby!!
I hate that I want this so much.
I hate that I can’t call my husband ‘baby’ anymore… because the ‘b’ word (baby) is so sacred and painful at the same time.
I hate that Baby is coming up more and more in my day.
I hate that he would have been due in a few months.
I hate not knowing.
I hate the lack of power.
I hate that I can’t yet surrender.
I hate that I am not that perfect balanced meditating calm person everyone seems to think I should be.
I hate trying to be helpful re baby-making, and doing stuff I’m “meant-to-be-doing” and not ever knowing if it’s enough, on the right path or even in the right direction…
But most of all, I hate that this hasn’t happened yet!
It is such a relief to express this. To get it out and onto paper in lines and words. And *breathe*