I imagine myself coming into this world, my soul kind of resembling a rock, heavy and complete with all those rough jagged edges. Probably not a comfortable thought for my dear mom pushing me into the world, but alas I was born via c-section.
Plus the jagged edges are more of an internal thing anyway -not literally on the outside, jeez don’t we women suffer enough during childbirth? It’s bad enough I pushed out 2 cantaloupes -anesthetized comfortably with an epidural both times.
Hi, I’m on my way to the hospital, my water just broke. You’re going to need to have that epidural ready when I hit the door, OK? And don’t even think of starting that Pitocin without it! That shit is the devil.
Time and circumstances have tumbled me about, smoothing my rough surfaces, taming my jagged edges.
In the end, after being tossed about by the forces of this world and this life, my little internal soul rock will be smooth and shiny. Like a worry stone. And I won’t be so annoyed. Irritated. Aggravated. Pissed off. Restless. Confused. Nothing will stick in my craw. Everything will just roll right off my smooth shiny internal soul rock.
I feel the changes already. There is a lessening of fear within myself. What do I have to prove anyway? I’ve already done everything I’ve set out to do. Well, almost everything. There’s always just one more thing. Like this blog. Like a book. Like my work. Like raising my kids. Like loving my husband. Like making a difference. Like being kind. Like living in such a way that the world is better for my existence. Which is impossible.
We should foster some kids, adopt some more stray cats and dogs, get an electric car, convert our house to solar power, become vegans, buy all our clothes from thrift stores, grow our own food, write my senator and congressperson and tell them to vote for gun control, gay marriage, get a poster board and write on it “Everyone, just stop being a bunch of assholes” and stand out in front of city hall.
I might get a burger. I might get my nails done. I might hand my kids an IPad to keep them busy so I can concentrate on being witty in my blog. I might crank up the air-conditioning and put a blanket over my lap while I write.
I might just sit here and do nothing.
Because I’m not all smooth and shiny yet. I still have some of those rough jagged edges.