Watching the wheels

While I've kept up a pretty good pace of posting here since losing my job in July (and after all, I do have more time to think and write these days), my blogging output has slowed a bit over the last week or two. Perhaps it's my usual November funk kicking in (& I will have a new post about that before the month is out).  Perhaps it's just the regular ebb & flow of blogging -- sometimes I am bursting with inspiration and ideas and things I want to say and writing mojo;  other times, not so much. And then something will happen or grab my attention, and I'm back on my keyboard again, tapping out another post. ; )

The inspiration for this post comes from Sarah at Infertility Honesty.  A few weeks ago, she wrote about her struggle to pick up the pieces of her life and deal with her grief, post-infertility treatment, and it's stuck with me since then. A few excerpts: 

"Infected with the “next step” disease like most infertiles, I wrestled with the adoption question every day, along with the slight time urgency my age brings to the table. 

"And then a funny thing happened. Summer started to feel good...

"As I’ve told people since January, “HOW we are doing is infinitely more important than WHAT we will do. Time to live that, and forego living with the limbo that comes from trying to force something that can’t be forced...

"A temporary step back could be a good thing. All will be there for me when I return. Flailing attempts to grab at ambiguous at best chances to create life no longer apply. I’m not going to actively pursue a career at the moment, so what? I don’t think the world will suffer much for me embarking on a new career at age 43 or 44 vs age 42, and I know I won’t either.  Plus, I’d be crazy not to take advantage of this space my husband’s and my hard work, risks, and sacrifices have earned... 

"For whatever reason my so what summer finally unveiled some joy in my home, more joy in my marriage, and a contentment that is attached to just being."

Her post (and I'd encourage you to read the whole thing) ended with the lyrics of a John Lennon song -- and although I knew the song very well (from the Double Fantasy album, released after his murder in December 1980, about the years he spent away from the music industry and out of the limelight as a "househusband," raising his son, Sean), I read the lyrics anew (& heard the song in my head) with a shock of recognition.  Suddenly, I could relate -- REALLY relate.  I had a whole new appreciation for how Lennon must have felt when he wrote it.  

I loved Sarah's post, and the Lennon song, because they so perfectly explain where I'm at in my life right now and how I'm feeling -- as well as how I felt/feel about stopping infertility treatments and living without children -- "no longer riding on the merry go round" of infertility treatment, desperately trying to grab the brass ring of motherhood.

I have often tried to explain to people that pregnancy loss and infertility treatment was like a roller coaster ride -- and that we decided we didn't want to hop off one roller coaster and then climb onto another (donor egg, adoption, etc.).  I know it's hard for some people -- both inside and outside and the ALI community -- to understand ("Don't give up! It will happen, I know it will!  Are you REALLY going to live without kids?  You would be such good parents! Have you thought about adoption?" etc. etc. etc....), but we were exhausted and spent and reeling from all the ups and downs of the past few years. We just wanted to stop riding roller coasters, and get on with our lives. And it didn't take us long -- a few weeks' vacation walking on the beaches of the Oregon coast -- to realize we'd made the right decision, painful as it felt. 

As I've written before, I'm finding some parallels between that time in my life and right now -- dealing with sudden, perhaps permanent, unemployment/earlier than expected retirement.  People want to know, "So, what do you do all day?"

I know there are those who can't imagine retiring (because they simply can't imagine a life without work, they need the money, or both). Others tell me I shouldn't even think of retiring at my age -- I'm still young!! I still have so much to offer!!

Perhaps. (Realistically, no matter how great my resume, I know there are a lot of similarly talented, suddenly unemployed 50-somethings wandering around right now looking for work. As with infertility treatment, I know the odds, and they are not on my side.) I like to think that yes, I may still have a lot to offer -- but I now have the advantage of offering it on my own terms, how, when & where I want.  I spent the past 28 years in a high-pressure corporate environment ("the big time") -- working and commuting 10-12 hours a day, asking "How high?" when other people said "Jump!" I'm in no hurry to return to that kind of life (if ever).  Been there, done that, bought the T-shirt. 

A certain amount of riding on the merry go round/roller coaster is a given in life.  But sometimes it's nice to get off when the opportunity arises, sit back & watch the wheels go round & round.

Take it away, John. ;) 

People say I'm crazy

Doing what I'm doing
Well, they give me all kinds of warnings
To save me from ruin

When I say that I'm okay
Well, they look at me kinda strange
Surely you're not happy now
You no longer play the game

 

People say I'm lazy
Dreaming my life away
Well, they give me all kinds of advice
Designed to enlighten me

When I tell them that I'm doing fine
Watching shadows on the wall
Don't you miss the big time, boy?
You're no longer on the ball

 

I'm just sitting here
Watching the wheels go round and round
I really love to watch them roll

No longer riding on the merry-go-round
I just had to let it go

 

Ah, people asking questions
Lost in confusion
Well, I tell them, there's no problem
Only solutions

Well, they shake their heads
And they look at me as if I've lost my mind
I tell them, there's no hurry
I, I'm just sitting here doing time

 

I'm just sitting here
Watching the wheels go round and round
I really love to watch them roll

No longer riding on the merry-go-round
I just had to let it go
I just had to let it go
I just had to let it go

(Another song from the "Double Fantasy" album, "Beautiful Boy," provided the quote that appears in the sidebar of this blog and has been part of my online signature since Katie's stillbirth:  "Life is what happens while you're making other plans.")