I’m very much an introvert. I need to be alone a lot of the time so I don’t go crazy. Ask anyone in my family how bitchy I get at Christmas after too many days surrounded by people. It can get bad, lol.
But sometimes life gets lonely, and it’s very hard to shake off. It’s a self-perpetuating cycle, really. You try to explain what you feel to others and they simply don’t understand. It’s not their fault, but the lack of an understanding ear can make you feel even more alone.
I have a full life, and I am very lucky. I have a family that loves me. A good job. A great place to live. Adorable pets. Hobbies and interests that I am passionate about. And yet….I am not always happy.
There are times when having a very singular life can bring me down. I have friends, but I never see them or hang out with them. Everyone is busy or far away. I’m single, with no romantic partner and don’t see that changing. I live alone. I have many siblings, but none of them share the same father as me. All these things often make me feel very alone in the world.
Sometimes you just want someone who gets it. Someone who shares a piece of your life. Someone to talk about your day with. To take care of you when you’re sick. To hang out and do nothing with.
To be plural.
A ‘we’ instead of an ‘I’.
- I remember the brief time you lived near me and we went to the same school.
- I remember you getting in trouble with Dad because you always left the shower a mess
- I remember you trying to plant grass in the front yard of the house on Elizabeth Street.
- I remember you running out to the pay phone at the corner to call 911 when Carol had a heart problem (Dad didn’t have a phone).
- I remember you going with Carol and leaving me there with him while he was drunk. I was 8. You were 15.
- I remember seeing you in your jean jacket that had Beastie Boys lyrics all over it. “You gotta fight for your right to Party!”
- I remember you dressing me up and putting make up on me and trying to convince Dad to let you take me out downtown on a Friday night. He said No.
- I remember meeting your T-shirt that said “Don’t Stare at My Kitties”
- I remember meeting your red-headed boyfriend Dan Pletsch, I was 11. I thought he was so nice and funny.
- I remember trying to carry Desire Pletsch around on my hip when she was two.
- I remember when Dad started drinking again when I was 12 and you hugged me and made me feel comforted.
- I remember you giving me shit years later because I didn’t wish Dad a happy Birthday.
- I think that was the last time I saw you alive.
You were always my sister too. I love you Joy. Rest in Peace.
People, even my family members, think I hate kids.
I get why people think this. I have no patience. I’m an introvert. I’m lazy. I like money, and free time. And quiet. Kids would allow me none of that. But that is only part of the reason I long ago decided not to have children.
It’s because I am way, way too emotional. I just don’t think I could handle it. I would always worry. I’d be the worst kind of helicopter parent, always hovering. I’d cry more over their hurts than they would. I just can’t do it.
I love incredibly strongly, more strongly than others I might risk to say. I’ve always been the most easily offended when I thought my siblings didn’t care enough about their ‘original’ family. I still am. My nieces and nephews are the joy of my life, and the ones that I didn’t get to build a relationship with? I miss terribly. I have 14 nieces and nephews. I have a relationship with 7. It’s many long stories and blame doesn’t matter, but the relationships I do have with the one set of seven make me ache for what could have been with the others.
Why am I writing this? You’ve probably guessed…the Newtown, CT massacre at Sandy Hook Elementary School. I’d say it’s because I’m sick, or hormonal, but it doesn’t really matter. I have spent most of my waking time since hearing about it on the verge of tears.
They were babies. They were my nieces and nephews not that long ago. And when I imagine something happening to one of them….I’m not sure I’d recover. And I’m not their mom.
I don’t want to have children because I already feel love too strongly. If I was to be a mother I’m not sure I’d be able to take it. They say it’s all worth it. And in the end, my decision isn’t really about the lack of time, or money.
It’s the fact that I don’t think I can handle loving another person THAT much, knowing I will have to watch them hurt.
That’s it really. I’m not having kids for one reason.
I’m a coward.