Blue Christmas

I spent this Christmas alone, prior to going to work at 3:00pm. I’m at a place in my life that it is becoming increasingly apparent just how alone I am. It was not an intentional choice to be here, but simply where life took me. Between a birth defect that made children of my own an unlikely prospect to not ever finding a spouse, my journey looks nothing like I thought when I pictured myself at fifty years old as an idealistic twenty-something.

Recently, I’ve found myself contemplating more and more my exit from this life. No, nothing overt or self harming in this statement, but simply that I know I’m closer to the end of my life at this stage then the beginning. I’m aging. I have health issues. And I have no spouse or children to see me through or provide comfort, companionship or a connection as I continue to age. Sure, I have my siblings, but they have their own families and kids. And their attention should rightfully be on them. Do I want to continue this solitary existence, or take some steps outside my comfort zone once more? I’m greatly leaning towards pushing my limits and testing my capacity to grow. Let me back up a bit to give you some context.

The aforementioned birth defect required four surgeries as a child to correct. This left scar tissue and other issues related to my ability to have children. After I reached my late thirties, and was no closer to finding marriage or a committed relationship, I started a conversation about having children as a single mom with my doctor. This became a heartbreaking conversation when it became clear the obstacles and challenges this entailed, with no clear idea of how much more damage I could do to my body or if I could even have a viable pregnancy. To say I cried a lot after this is an understatement. This was such a bitter pill to swallow for a girl who came from a strong family upbringing and always saw herself as a mom. This was the start of an almost decade long battle with grief and anger about something I always thought would be a part of my story. It wasn’t pretty and I shared it with very few people initially, just how much I was grieving and struggling. I felt selfish, jealous, and small every time another friend or relative announced a pregnancy. I fought valiantly to be happy for them… and I was… but it was emotionally painful to be there for them in any capacity beyond a forced smile sometimes. And I hated that, because that is not fundamentally who I am. At all.

At almost the same time, my mom was starting her final decline. She was diagnosed with Primary Progressive Multiple Sclerosis, and had endured the slow but steady shut down of her body over a nine year period. She had to stop working due to too many falls, hospice became involved, and my dad retired early to be her primary caregiver. We rallied the familial troops to be there for her and dad as much as possible in the last couple years of her life. She passed away about seven years ago and I still feel that hole in my heart to this day. Between the grief of her passing and my childless state, I was just trying to cope and get through each day. So I put all my efforts and focus into my career, the one part of my life that I’ve excelled in, and pretty much retreated from any relationships that weren’t superficial or mere acquaintances. It was easier than having to open up wounds I was desperately trying to get to scab over and heal. It took time and lots of coping skills, but I eventually worked my way through the worst of the grief and anger.

About the time that I finally felt able to open my heart again, I made a huge career change. I left the mental health agency I’d been at for nearly 25 years and moved to a position at a foster care agency. The position I took put all my experience and background to full use, and I ended up being promoted into a supervisory role within a year and half of starting at the agency. Seeing up close and personal the struggles of the foster care system and the need for good foster homes has made me think about the potential of becoming a foster parent myself. Which is the leap I’m considering taking in the new year. I have a good job, a home, and a heart for kids. It seems a natural conclusion, right? But I’ve also worked in mental health and foster care for almost 30 years now. I get the reality of it all better than most who decide to foster. It’s an emotional and sometimes exhausting proposition to take a traumatized child into your heart and home, while at the same time fulfilling and worthwhile. I’ve even discussed the possibility of adopting with the placement agency I’m going to start foster parenting classes with in January. Because I’ve come back into my own and realized once more how much love I have to give… and how much I always try to be a loving and supportive presence in the lives of others. I don’t want to come to the end of my life and realize I became bitter and negative instead. With this in mind, I’m choosing to move forward and be intentional in my journey again.

I’m going to begin to be more intentional about this space as well, adding more content and posts about my foster care journey, living and cooking as a single person, mental health and interpersonal skills, and other topics of interest as I move through life. I want to give my creativity and writing along with my experience in helping others a place to breathe. If there’s a topic of interest to you, please let me know.

I wish you all love and good fortune in the new year!