I'm at a point where I do things because I have to -- my choices have very little to do with anything. And nothing infuriates me more than being whipped around by a situation, and having no options.
If I had my preference? I would have an amazing job that pays extremely well and doesn't feel like work. I would already live in my dream home, which has all of the things that I want -- a gourmet kitchen with a large double fridge, a smaller fridge just for condiments, a walk-in master closet, an upstairs laundry room. It would be spacious and contemporary with a beautiful home gym and sleek minimalist home office. The media room would feature a large flat screen TV with all of the components and wires hidden. There would be a gorgeous granite wet bar and a wine fridge. The backyard would have a pool, or a nice spa -- perfectly landscaped -- with an expansive deck. There would not be neighbors so close that they're breathing on me, and I could ideally have at least a 3 car garage -- perfectly organized.
If that isn't a description of love, I don't know what is.
Also? I would eliminate these fibroids altogether so that I wouldn't have to have this surgery -- let alone one so invasive that I'll have to have a disgusting scar and a body that's forever ugly. Or uglier, if we're being honest.
Then? I would go back about 16 years and prevent the BF from hooking up with his ho-ass baby mama. Not that we would have dated if I'd known him then-- because I'm pretty sure that we wouldn't have been even remotely attracted to each other (or good for each other), but I would have befriended him and forcefully changed his mind and opened his eyes to the multitudes of reasons why he should never have dated her. I would have taught him that he should aim higher because he deserved better. Maybe I would have changed his taste in women (which isn't really the best), and he could have eliminated some of those horrid slamhounds. Even if we never got together, we could have been in each others' lives as great strictly platonic friends and I could have simplified his life for a nice deserving woman (whose idea of an occupation doesn't include a pole) with whom he could have had a solid relationship, a few children and a altogether better life experience. Because, really? As it stands now, I don't need to get married, nor do we really NEED to buy a house together (although the logistics of our living situation seem ridiculous, oddly non-committal and never-ending), but there's something really shitty about not having the option should I want it.
And while we're at it? I would have restarted my career years earlier so that I wouldn't be in the predicament that I'm in right now.
The one thing I wouldn't change is my dad's health. The ONLY thing I would do is eliminate his emphysema, but at his age he does very well, and I'm grateful for that on a daily basis.
I don't think I'll feel this way forever -- at least I hope I don't -- but right now I feel like my Roomba when it get stuck on something, churns until its battery drains and is unable to return to its charging station. Part of this situation will go away after my surgery in a month or so, but I can't help thinking that I'll be on a slippery slope in the opposite direction and that I'll start looking older and gaining weight. I feel like I'm on a countdown, and I'm desperately trying to hold on to each day until 10/28, as though my happiness will end by the end of that day.
Sounds dramatic, right? Yes, but it is. The situation is tragic and dramatic, and just so wrong on so many levels. And I have no options.
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