"We found each other in the cosmos, and that was wonderful."

Before it disappears into forgetting I need to write about the night I came home from New York. Jonathan filled up my whole world again so suddenly and I felt so relieved to be back where I belonged, and a little shy in the car as we were driving and I was trying to tell him, stilted, about our trip. When we got home I saw everything was so clean and lovely and there was a candle burning and a plate of cookies on the table (sweet Mary!). When we were finally home he dropped to his knees and held my waist and looked so eager, he said wistfully, I need to be with you, I missed you. Sometimes it makes me cry just realizing how much of this sweet life that I always longed for is an absolutely rarity. Of course the sharp and disillusioning moments still come, but in all of humanity with all the turmoil and agony of all the generations and cultures, how many individuals have really truly felt loved, and felt safe, and felt understood by their partner? I feel dizzy with this most delicious slice of privilege and so sad that in so many ways it can't last, won't last, but I love it now and I want to fill my arms and my heart with him forever. Ann Druyan was right, mere chance can be so kind. The most wonderful and fulfilling time in my life is when we're cuddling and watching shows and talking. I am so happy with Jonathan that it sort of buffers the general sense of depression and cynicism I feel creeping into the other aspects of my life. Lately I feel like withdrawing from everyone. I used to so look forward to girls nights and activities and would be seared by burning FOMO if I couldn't go, but now I feel very ambivalent, more than ever a sense of going just to support rather than enjoy. I am tired of the expectations and the misunderstandings and the shallowness and the tiresome cognitive distortions. I'm tired of my work as well and can barely stand to be there, but I can only see unpleasant ways my life would change if I would ever leave. I can't even think through the scenario in my head of confessing my condition. I'm too angry, I'm much more comfortable staying in denial. I don't want to buy a minivan, I don't want to have more children than arms. Although maybe it doesn't matter, as they get big and eventually you hold them one at a time anyway, if at all? I don't want to hear anything from anyone (that about covers it). I'm struggling with Sparrow right now. I want to have a sweet relationship with her but her constant whining and begging to nurse makes me feel so trapped and seems to take up absolutely all of our time so that there is no space for bonding in any other way. I feel disappointed about that and a little like a failure. I'm sure it affects her adversely to have me feeling like I want to hide from her. It's not just that nursing is painful, but also her pinches and slaps and tweaking and scratching of my breasts drives me so crazy I don't know what to do. Lately she will let me go if I ask her to. Part of me was remorseful about the probability of nursing ending when I went to New York, but part of me was so relieved! And that part is achingly frustrated right now. How can I bond with my little daughter? I need new ways to connect with her because she's not an infant anymore. It's just easier with Chai right now--wild, brilliant Chai! He took two pieces of broken hanger tonight and declared that he made a flamingo, and he pointed out a leaf on the floor that looked like a violin. He put letter b's and d's on his long-neck's necks and called them swimsuits. He is always asking "Will you play with me?" and "Come in my room?" We went with Moh to see the horses and cows and I asked him if I could hold his hand and he said "yeah ya can, sure!" Tomorrow we're supposed to go up for Beav's farewell. I don't know what I wish for, for anyone, anymore. I think what holds steady is that I don't believe anyone is in any way unworthy. I miss JesuCristo and the sense of fore-ordination and destiny to move things in the world ("We all want to pull the sword out of the stone and have it be us"), and I'm sad there seems to be a barrier between me and so many people I used to be close with. One other piece I should mention is that I've been thinking about the Rust Cole quote in True Detective about committing the heinous sin of becoming a father/parent and part of it resonated with me--I love my children so deeply and would never regret their existence, but now that I don't think I'm volunteering up my eggs for righteous spirits who will be lucky enough to come to a gospel home instead of touching down in some 3rd or 4th world, it seems heavier, creating something where maybe it never existed before. There is a world of pain to perceive and feel. There are joyous moments but there is so much bad news to be broken, so much heartache. Before, I saw having children as a necessary part in my eternal progression and as a favor to others, a way to serve, creating a body which would eventually allow them to be brought home to God. I guess many of my reasons for wanting a smaller family now are reasons my younger self would have considered very selfish, but I also know she wasn't capable of really understanding. It was a feat, what my mother did, it was a superhuman feat of strength and I want to spend my days differently, I want a more manageable family life and I want time to be with my lover. I want to be close with a few instead of semi-close with a hoard.