It takes me time to process things.  Often, I will outwardly react before I’ve inwardly processed and thought through everything – this usually ends poorly but I’ve now realized that and am addressing it.  I don’t think I’m alone in this, I think it happens with a lot of people.

About a week ago I admitted to myself that I had been making up my aversion to making my own family.  That quarterback is long gone from the field and I have since gotten up, dusted myself off, and am working on my next game plan.

Rather than continuing to let that wall stand and take the road of self-denial, I have decided to figure this shit out.  I’ve started researching bipolar disorder & pregnancy, talking about it with a friend who has bipolar disorder and is actually pregnant, and will be asking my gyno and psychiatrist about future options during upcoming appointments.

According to my internet research (yes yes, grain of salt) most medications can be continued during pregnancy with little to no affect on the baby.  The research suggests that breast feeding afterward is not the best idea on the meds,but I think I’m fine with that.  But. . . Did you guys just read that??  OH MAN!  I can stay on meds and be pregnant!  And yes yes, I know, this all assumes that my body is capable of actually getting pregnant and maintaining a pregnancy, AND that my partner can cause a pregnancy (there’s a more normal way to say that, I’m sure) – but this is exciting.  I now have some starter knowledge to go to my gyno and psych with so that they can give further guidance. 

I still know nothing about babies and small children which is disconcerting.  I mean, I know you figure that stuff out as you go and I don’t actually have a partner I’m going to be making babies with yet so why rush, but I do like to be prepared as much as I can.  So I am now on a mission hang out with all the babies and small children – which is scary for me.  It should be fun though. (I hope?)  (right?)  (OH GOD WHAT AM I DOING???)

I know that this parallel is not nearly on the same level, but here goes: I have hated cats for a lot of my life.  This is because I’m deathly allergic to 98% of them, so if I can’t have them, my idiot brain/heart decided to put them in the “hate pile.”  Most of my friends have cats so when visiting them I end up hanging out on porches a lot when I visit which is fine, but not the most fun.  I recently discovered a breed of cat that I am NOT allergic to!  Like, seriously not allergic to!  No rash, no sneezing, no itchy eyes, no asthma, no death.  It took about two months of letting my guard down and reminding myself that this was a possible thing for me to finally stop with the whole “cats are dumb” thing and embrace the possibility of being a kitty parent.  I was that bad with the self-constructed wall – about CATS.  Yeah, I’m a piece of work, I know.  Anyway, I found a local breeder of said “hypoallergenic” cat (Siberians) and I was on a wait list for my very own kitten.  I was getting super excited to finally have my own kitty (because I successfully tore down that wall), allergy-free when out of the blue, my BFF forwarded me an email of a friend of a friend who was looking to re-home a 3-year-old female Siberian kitty.  For the wait list of the breeder, I was looking for a black tortie male, because I love the coats of the darker kitties and boy kitties are almost always the sweeter of the two genders.  But here was this perfect opportunity to find my new best friend – a rescue of sorts – who needed a good home.  I went to visit the kitty, a grey seal pointe female, and ended up taking her home with me that day. Fast forward to more than a month later and Ellie (Lady Elizabeth Fluffface VonButtonnose) and I are becoming great friends.  I’m turning into a cat lady.  I bought her a “cat tree”.  I’m convinced that she can actually tell when I’m sad because if I try to snuggle her just for cuddles she gets tired of it quickly, but the other night when I was genuinely sad and just wanted a hug, she laid all wrapped up in my arms until I calmed down. I enjoy trying to take selfies with her.  I also talk to her and am almost certain we’re having a conversation because she meows back.  It’s almost sickening.

My point with that whole thing is that my cold heart, surrounded by bricks, has already proven to be capable of shedding its tough exterior and warming.  I have already been down the path of tearing down a wall, letting something in, and growing from the whole thing.  So here I am now, doing the same on a much grander scale, armed with the confidence that I have my close friends behind me, my good heart, and my desire to grow for the better. Ah, self-discovery, the Pandora’s box that you will never ever close again – and will occasionally wonder if life wouldn’t just be easier if you accepted yourself as-is rather than challenging yourself to grow.

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