Yes, I Need to Do This

Confession: I am tired of pretending. I pretend to be a nice person. I pretend that my pain level is lower than it really is, because I have some weird hangup about complaining (hard to believe, right?). I pretend I like certain people because it's easier than acting on my feelings (and don't you usually go to jail for throat-punching people?).

And lately? I'm pretending I'm not afraid of this surgery. I pretend that I believe I'm going to have this miraculous recovery and feel better than I have in a year. I pretend that I'm strong enough to survive this. I pretend that I believe that at the end of this long and horrible road, BoyWonder and I will have this beautiful, happy family and things will be amazing.

The truth? I'm not that nice. I hurt all the fucking time. There are ten people I can think of right now (more if you figure in customers at work) that I'd like to disappear from my life.

I'm terrified of this surgery. There's a part of me that really doesn't believe I'll be okay. I don't even know if I care about having kids anymore. I don't feel beautiful or amazing, and I can't even imagine myself being able to instill that in my children.

Side-confession: I really hope that this last one was the pain and exhaustion talking. There is an eternal optimist locked inside me... But when I never started feeling better, I seem to have gagged her and stuffed her in a trunk somewhere in my soul.

I hope they free her next week.

**note: I didn't really mean to publish this. It was going to be a much bigger confessional. I'm a little embarrassed that it ended up this way, because the other parts were much less depressing. Oh well.