Deep, Dark, Real Conversations
My sister and I have real conversations. Deep, sometimes dark, real conversations. One of the biggest topics we discuss is whether to procreate. I've always wanted kids. Two or three. Always. Growing up I babysat and thought I'd be a teacher. I love kids. My sister has never been interested in having kids of her own (although I have no doubt she'd spoil mine to no end). She doesn't dislike kids, I think she just doesn't want to have such an obligation. I understand it and appreciate it. The older I get, the more I appreciate it.
Although I still want kids of my own, I wonder, would I be doing them a disservice by bringing them into this world? Or would I be doing the world a disservice by not bringing my kids into it?
This year has been a tough one. Part of it is the hopelessness that we feel about our national government. With the increase in high-profile suicides this year (Kate Spade and Anthony Bourdain) and the seemingly uncontrollable and exponential opioid misuse, political unrest and turmoil worldwide, and natural disasters becoming more devastating, despite our increased understanding of infrastructure and disease, and happening more frequently, it seems that we're spiraling out of control. And we have a TV personality running our show.
We each individually do what we need to to regain control in our own lives, but to me this begs the question and makes me waver where I had never wavered before, on whether I want to have kids. To answer unanswerable questions. To worry in ways I've never had to worry before. To wonder about whether there is a future for generations past my own.
Maybe there will be a beacon of light shown this Saturday at John McCain's services. Maybe there's hope in another 2 years. If not, six more years is too long for this country to stay on this path. This hopeless world will become so much darker.
As I read back over this before publishing, I feel complete emptiness.
Although I still want kids of my own, I wonder, would I be doing them a disservice by bringing them into this world? Or would I be doing the world a disservice by not bringing my kids into it?
This year has been a tough one. Part of it is the hopelessness that we feel about our national government. With the increase in high-profile suicides this year (Kate Spade and Anthony Bourdain) and the seemingly uncontrollable and exponential opioid misuse, political unrest and turmoil worldwide, and natural disasters becoming more devastating, despite our increased understanding of infrastructure and disease, and happening more frequently, it seems that we're spiraling out of control. And we have a TV personality running our show.
We each individually do what we need to to regain control in our own lives, but to me this begs the question and makes me waver where I had never wavered before, on whether I want to have kids. To answer unanswerable questions. To worry in ways I've never had to worry before. To wonder about whether there is a future for generations past my own.
Maybe there will be a beacon of light shown this Saturday at John McCain's services. Maybe there's hope in another 2 years. If not, six more years is too long for this country to stay on this path. This hopeless world will become so much darker.
As I read back over this before publishing, I feel complete emptiness.
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