Crossing a Barren Desert

(Warning: lots and lots of venting, whining and crying. Stop now if you don't want to read).

For some time--and I'm not sure where it started--I've been in a sort of lethargy. I don't want to say crisis, because it's not a crisis, and certainly not a crisis of faith (thank God). But it's just... I don't know. Lethargy, apathy, bleh.

I haven't been to Mass regularly in a long time. Why? Not sure. I am unmotivated to do a lot of things. I need to confess that, as I can't partake until I've done so. But in the meantime, I'm struggling to figure out why I'm feeling this way. I haven't been in the mood to do much of anything Church-wise, whether it's serving at Mass, contacting the Catechism director, or the SFO--especially the SFO, where the whole presentation thing and how it was mostly dumped on me added to my despondent attitude.

I think a part of my issues have to do with all those years in crisis mode, always being on call at all times. Now that Mother is gone, the constant dread of when the shoe is going to drop has left a void that hasn't healed yet, and I haven't quite been able to drop that habitual tension. Yesterday's blue mood had more to do with my late sister: she would have been 46. Funny, as the years pass, I miss her more.

Mother's death opened a can of worms in the family dynamics aspect of life; to give an idea of how bad it's gotten, I do not want my siblings in my house--I can't host any event or holiday because of the blatant disrespect shown me, TJ, and my house. I finally learned that after all these years it's okay to say NO, that I am allowed to call my own shots within the family, to not allow myself to be their dumping ground as they blithely go on with their lives. Yet it makes me sad: it shouldn't have to be this way. Having learned to stand up for myself has exacted its own cost.

Add to this my procreation woes: five years of trying and nothing to show except for one terrifying ectopic. TJ said in January he would get tested, as he had for two years previously. They won't look at me until they look at him--he's easier to pinpoint/rule out. However, he has hangups about it. Granted, it's not a pleasant thing to look forward to, but I've personally endured worse. His is a one-shot deal... no pun intended, sorry... but mine will be invasive and embarrassing. Until he does his bit, I can't do mine. Anytime I bring it up he counters with things that have nothing to do with the price of beans in China. Very frustrating.

Not too long ago he said that we can't afford any assistance--yet we can find several grand for his jaw/teeth problems, several grand for the cat, and will spend thousands upon thousands eventually for him to pursue his dream: he wants to be a psychologist. This is great and fine, and I absolutely support him in his dream. But does it mean that I have to give up mine to be a parent? If it's a money issue as far as he's concerned, then adoption is out, as well as any other alternative. Lately, however, I've been wondering if he subconsciously doesn't want children. This issue has slowly overtaken my mind because I'm not getting any younger; once I was cynical about women crying about the "ticking clock." Now my own is ticking, with any chances of fulfilling my dream slowly vanishing, and it's a lonely place to be.

Also, I have recently had to face up that I have to let go of someone I care deeply for. This gentleman--let's call him Joe--was once a very close friend. We could talk forever: I'm the bookish one with all sorts of vast and odd knowledge, he is very smart and is world traveled thanks to several years in the military. We filled each others' gaps intellectually and it was so much fun just to talk about everything and nothing. Then, one day last September, Joe confessed he fell in love with me. Of course I had to say as kindly as I could (trying to hide my quiet little horror of being put into an impossible situation), no, sorry, there's nothing I can do, I said, but keep walking with me as my friend anyway. I know it can be done; wouldn't have suggested it if it wasn't possible. It has been a struggle, and I have prayed over it. A lot. But after the better part of this past year and his inability to deal with my reality, my love for TJ that has never changed, I have decided to let him and the dead friendship go. It's one of the hardest things I've ever done, but when all topics are now restricted, conversations become shorter and progressively more impersonal, there's nothing left for me to do. It's broken my heart. I tried. Tout fini.

So, yeah, I'm in that lonely deserted place with only myself to talk to. I've thought about talkig with Padrino, or with the pastor at my own parish, but from watching first hand I know they have so much on their hands already. I don't know what to do. Writing has helped.

Please forgive my long-windedness.