So, I think that summers are supposed to be fun, mostly because of our culture’s outdated and wrong idea that people should get summers off. We get taught this weird expectation as children because our culture hasn’t caught up the idea that we aren’t still farmers and therefore don’t still need the summer time to collect the harvest for the year. My harvest is like 5 minutes away at the Publix, so I don’t need 3 months to get that taken care of.
But, still, even though I know this, I still think that summers are supposed to be easy. I think I’m supposed to get to relax and go on vacations and read books and catch up on TV.
Instead, I’ve been stressed. I’m even stressed about vacation. I have had 2 distinct periods since I’ve last blogged of feeling so mired down in self-pity and depression that I literally couldn’t think of doing anything other than going to work and watching TV and walking my dogs. Why? Oh, god, lots of reasons, none of which I’m wanting to re-hash and talk about now. The big reason, though, you all know (or have known in the past): dammit all to hell, why can’t I have a family too? Why? I know I have a family, in my DH and stepkids, but I mean why can’t I create and grow (which includes through adoption) my own family, like right now?
Okay, so there is my cathartic post for the day. I’ve been reading and keeping up with you all but have been a terrible commenter (see above complaint about life that has meant that mostly I’ve just been watching TV).
Speaking of watching TV, don’t go see Prometheus for its sensitive approach to infertility. There’s a scene in that movie that is absolutely cringe-invoking for infertiles.