Make It Work

So, I know. Every time I commit to hopping aboard the post-a-day train again something happens and I find myself derailed. To be honest I’m just not quite myself lately and I keep waiting to wake up feeling better so I can get back to posts about poop. The culprit? My MP was looking into the immigration situation for Jose since apparently the federal government doesn’t actually believe in communicating with its citizens and showing genuine concern for their unique situations. Anyway, long story short, it would appear it’s going to be a minimum of fourteen months until Jose has even a glimmer of hope for getting into Canada. Yeah, so there’s that.

Now, before I go on here’s the thing you need to know about me (if you don’t already). I’m the most capable person you’ll ever meet. I’m the girl who goes to university full time and works thirty hours a week and volunteers here, there and everywhere and stays up until 4:00am to bake cupcakes and craft whimsical greeting cards because so-and-so’s smile looked a little off over coffee the other day and it is clearly my job to cheer them up. I have itemized, prioritized, painfully organised lists and I generally get more done before breakfast than most people do all day. Like I said, I’m the most capable person you’ll ever meet, until of course suddenly I’m not. For the most part I go through life always able to find a positive spin. Like Tim Gunn I’m always finding a way to “make it work” and “carry on”. The downside to this in that every once in awhile I find myself overwhelmed with everything I’ve tried to be positive about, usually spurred by some epic failure or disappointment and then, predictably, my facade comes crashing down and my world begins to unravel. When your only coping mechanism is to look on the bright side and you suddenly find yourself devoid of positivity, well, you can imagine the results.

When we got the immigration news I tried to take it all in stride. I immediately started a mental list of reasons why the news was good. It went something like:

1) Well at least now we know! Now we have a concrete timeline to work with! This is good news actually! Great news!

2) I might get to live in Peru and that’s cool! I’ll always be able to say “oh yeah, that was the year we lived in Peru”! Plus Gaia will get more time with her other grandparents and uncles and cousins! Yup! This is gonna be great! GREAT!

3) I... um... well...

And that’s about as far as I got before I gave in and every disappointment Jose and I have faced for the past year started pressing against my chest. The pain I’ve been pushing aside in favour of silver linings, yeah, it sucks, especially all at once. Our multiple visitor visa rejections and the fact I went though all but three-weeks of my pregnancy alone. The memories of feeling Gaia move inside of me for the first time and looking around excitedly only to realise I had no one to share it with. The way I was terrified and had no idea if everything was going to be okay and how there was no one there to reassure me. How I used to lay in bed alone and whisper “everything’s going to be okay” and pretend it was Jose just so I could fall asleep. How I gave birth with the support of someone who, while amazing, was not my husband and how all I wanted in the world was to share it with him. How much I hated feeling bitter or anything besides joy on my first night with Gaia because it wasn’t her fault Jose wasn’t there any more than it was his, or mine. How much I regretted those tears when she was only a few hours old. The pure and poisonous envy I feel every time I see families intact and want to pull them aside and shake them and ask them if they really appreciate everything they have and if they know how much harder it would be if they didn’t have the physical presence of each other regardless of how difficult just being together could be sometimes. How I spend hours when I should be falling asleep just wondering how much easier it all would be if there were two of us, especially since that other person would be Jose. Yeah. I could go on for hours about all the bitterness and bile that’s spilled over in the past week but that’s exactly why I haven’t been posting anything in the first place. See I fear and loath pity in equal amounts and try to avoid it whenever possible (an easy feat when one places their whole existence on a positive point-of-view). Still I thought maybe if I just wrote it all down (or at least scratched the surface) I might be able to let it go and get back to those longed after posts where every once in awhile I’ve even been known to make a funny.