The darkness lurks always under the surface. Maybe for a moment a smile graces my face or a laugh crosses my lips but it’s a moment and then the crushing weight of the dark again presses against me. It’s less when I hold my loved ones close to me. When I lament that no one loves me and my daughter proclaims, “Some one does. ME!” and runs into my arms, I am for a moment spared from dwelling on the emptiness of the void. But she quickly tires of lying in my arms and as she runs into the next room, apathy washes over me anew. When my husband holds me close to his strong chest, the darkness is still there. The tears press against my eyes, held back by some unseen force but there is some comfort in his embrace.
Why so dark? I don’t know. I want to blame it on this place. This fetid, rotting sand bar we’ve been sentenced to but I don’t like to blame my problems on circumstance. Although, this place does leave much to be desired. Not only is there nothing to do, there’s no one to do it with. We’ve no friends that we can just call up and say, hey, we’re bored. Come over. I’d go for a walk but there’s nowhere to go and nothing to see. A walk should be a quiet, reflective time. It’s hard to be reflective with the constant drone of traffic and generators and construction equipment and ignorant people flapping their yaps.
I worked out today. The workout felt great. Really, really great. Unfortunately everyone else in the gym felt it necessary to talk nonstop. No one really talked much to me, which was fine but I was unable to ignore their constant drivel. “American Idol.” “The Biggest Loser.” “Lost.” “Dancing With the Stars.” “The Super Bowl.” blah blah blah. Who the hell cares?
The American College of Gynecology made a statement about “The Business of Being Born” and said, basically, that homebirth is dangerous and anyone attempting it is putting the process of giving birth above a healthy baby. BULLSHIT!!! They are lying! Your baby is LESS likely to die or have complication if you plan a homebirth under the care of a certified midwife, even if you end up transferring to the hospital. YOU are LESS likely to have major surgery (c-sections are major surgery, people), to die, or to suffer from serious complication if you plan a homebirth under the care of a licensed midwife, again, even if you end up transferring. I know why they said what they said. It doesn’t make me mad that they said it. They think they are doing the right thing and the right thing happens to make them a butt load of money. It makes me mad that people believe them.
I talked to a gal today who is heading to Germany in the next couple of weeks. Her husband has just graduated from tech school. They are 19 and 20. She had her first baby when she was 16 years old and her second when she was 18. They have worked hard to be responsible. They are really excited about going to Germany. I’m excited for them. She seemed like a really nice girl but she was so afraid. She was afraid her daughter would fall. Her daughter found a bent spoon at a park. She assumed someone had been doing drugs there and never went back. I understand being cautious. I mean, we don’t leave Jael with just anybody. Family is about it. We don’t trust the federal government to raise her so we are homeschooling. I am afraid of what she would become if she thought that the average military family were normal and healthy and so we moved out of military housing.
I don’t know. I’m just rambling. These periods of depression pass but they aren’t fun while they are here. I just wish we had more friends. I miss Dianna. I miss James. I miss Travis and Christy. I miss my sister and my mom. I miss my brothers and my dad. I miss Sarah. I miss having people who we could just drop in on and who could just drop in on us. But we’ve not found that here.
Luckily, I know that this too will pass. Hopefully I’ll have happier news to report next blog.