A clean hurt: Part 2

I just feel betrayed, but I am not sure who has betrayed me. 

It just seems wrong that she is pregnant when we didn't know they even wanted it, and I am not pregnant, though they knew I did want it.  That is not very fair reasoning, and I know; in fact, it isn't reasoning, but just plain feeling.  So yes, I know it is not very fair nor rational.

But there is no guilt in this hurt, justified or not.  There is no bitterness.  I know that last part could have sounded bitter, but I really have no bitterness. 

For the majority of my life I have strived for being worthy of approval from my parents.  I just want to know that they, in particular my mom, are proud of me.  I have never known them to be. 

Growing up, there were things I learned to have importance in this world, things that gave you status and marked you as accomplished:

going to college
graduating from college
holding a full-time career/job
marrying and staying married
excelling in your job
holding leadership at your church
buying a house
doing well financially
having children...and it goes on. 

This list is obviously skewed by my viewpoint as a lifelong church member from the middle class with educated parentage.

I have accomplished some of these things.  I have made attempts at all of them.  I have failed at half of them.  And I just see the failures, unfortunately.  It is a weakness of mine.  And I imagine that my parents zoom in on the failures as well.  If they have ever noticed the successes, they've never mentioned it to me. 

Having children, in particular, being the first to give my parents a grandchild, was my last ditch effort to win their lifelong approval.  I may still have children, but I cannot be the first.

I adore my grandfather on my dad's side.  He as of yet, despite his age of 80+, does not have any great grandchildren.  Excuse me, as of a month or two ago, depending on when my sis-in-law got pregnant, he did not have any great grandchildren.  I am his only granddaughter.  I am his oldest grandchild.  I wanted to be the first to present him with a great grandchild.  This was a special dream of mine.  It was something I was looking forward to doing, something that would bless him thoroughly.  Now I know I will not be doing that.  My brother will. 

I ache inside because I feel like I am a failure in the eyes of those who love me the most.  I suppose in a way, that is an oxymoron.  But it still hurts.  I feel like someone died, and that someone was a "successful" me. 

This is what it can be like to struggle with depression.  It is not rational.  And the depressed person can even realize it is not rational.  That is a step towards healing, but it is certainly not an instant cure.  Most people don't seem to understand this.  This is why I am writing. 

This is a clean hurt, because I am not angry.  I am not bitter.  I am not feeling guilt.  I'm simply grieving my own plan for my life.  It has finally been obliterated.  Becoming a success according to the definition of the word that I developed while growing up can now never be accomplished.  A few years ago, I would have been angry.  I would have hated myself.  I may have even wanted to hate the family members involved.  I would have held bitterness against them for some imaginary wrong they had made against me. 

The Bible says if we die to ourselves we can receive life through Jesus.  But I don't remember it saying it would not be difficult or hurt.   Perhaps I am finally reaching a deeper level of dying to myself, surrendering my last plan to "win" love, which will hopefully allow me to better comprehend the freedom of God's love. 



I have a confession to make.  There is another part of this hurt, the one I hate to admit. 

All of my life I have had little to no interest in children, especially babies.  It was not until this past year that I began to long to be a mother.  Everyone who has known me my whole life knows my reputation for not wanting much to do with children, even at church.  I have been afraid to tell them I finally have a desire for a child of my own, because I can see them getting all excited and making a huge deal of it.  And then I could not face their disappointment, and even more so my own, if it turns out I cannot have children, for whatever reason. 

They don't know how badly I want my own baby.  They have no idea.  I haven't even wanted to realize it myself.  It has become a precious dream to me, one that I probably don't deserve.  But like my counselor said to me today, if God's love only went to those who deserved it, then nobody on this earth would qualify. 

I know there have been many women who have longed to be mothers and it was never possible for them.  In the Bible, women felt cursed when they could not bear children.  I used to think it was only because bearing children gave them status.  But even now, knowing that my chances of gaining status are gone, I still want that baby. 

Some people know my husband and I have been trying to get pregnant.  When they learn about my brother and sis-in-law, they will pity me.  I don't know if I can handle that.  It would be easier to go on pretending I really don't care whether I get pregnant or not.  Except I hate to lie. 

One more grievance, and then I will stop the moaning for now.  I will now be the last young woman in my church to not have any kids.  All of my friends at church have kids.  I know they love me, but when you have children, all of your priorities change.  You have less in common with those who do not have children.  My husband and I will be the only young adults without children.  Before we had my brother and sis-in-law, but no more.  I am afraid of being so alone again at my church. 

That is all for now.  I said I write this to inform others what life is really like for those struggling with depression while still hanging on to their faith.  But I also write to relieve my heart from some of its burden.  Thank you for bearing with me.