'Nso...

Yes, well let me explain. The title. My father's family is Polish, actually immigrated from Poland in the late 1800s and settled in Wisconsin. I've not really had a lot of contact with them, always living so far away, and I have small vague snippets of memories surrounding them. I, of course, remember my grandmother the most. The last time I saw her I was 16. She died several years ago - the last of my grandparents to pass. She could speak fluent Polish, had a very distinct accent, and she tended to end most sentences with "... 'nso?" Which, spelled out long hand is, "and so?"

I have therapy tomorrow - and as I shared with a friend earlier, when I think about going it makes me want to cry. Odd huh? But that's how I feel. I want to go, don't get me wrong, but I think about what I will probably say, what we'll most likely talk about and it's like a crack appears in the dam that is my psyche and the concrete weakens, letting emotion I usually keep in check seep out. It probably doesn't make a whole lot of sense to anyone but me and I suppose the truth is that it doesn't have to, but it's still hard and I have to deal with it because I don't have any other choice.

I was thinking this morning about life and where we end up, how we get here, why. I live here in this little town I've known for the majority of my life. This is home... and growing up I didn't really realize there was more out there. My folks didn't place a whole lot of importance on travel and life experience. They'd already done it all - travelled and lived and all that entails. By the time I was older, by the time doing those things would actually influence and mold me it was done. Traveling out of town, let alone out of state or out of the country was just folly. We had the farm and that was life and that was it. College - gee that was fight I had to wage just to get the opportunity to go. And then I got more stupid - giving my love and then my body and then my life over to someone else. He, gee, he is hard to explain although I've tried here in this blog - I've tried. I married him thinking, believing, he had simple goals and simple desires and boy did I end up being wrong. But I bought into that - bought into the simple man with simple aspirations and I fashioned my life around that: a little house with a little family... small town American life. And it was fine.

Once upon a time I dreamed of bigger things though - wanderlust I suppose. I made a choice though, free will, and I directed my energy into this small place - this simple life. I have a cozy little home and wonderful children. I am blessed and I know this, I know this in my heart. Yet...

I've been ripped off. Robbed. Lured into a life, pointed in a direction, and then abandoned. I've worked at overcoming it, making it good, even downright awesome sometimes - yet... things happen and I am remined that no matter how far I come I still fall short. I'm still alone. I'm still stuck.

The engagement has been exciting! The kids are so happy and we're all making plans - talking about color schemes and photographers and menus. It's wonderful... so very wonderful. I love them and I want to do my part to make this magical and special - and I will. As God as my witness I will. The reality though is I do this alone.

I will leave it at that. No real need to go any further, explain it to death. This is what will come up tomorrow in therapy... after I tell her the sweet story of how he proposed... after I describe how happy they both looked at that moment... I will cry, as I cry right now, and she will tell me it's natural that I feel this way, that it all makes sense. She's right, I know, but it doesn't change anything - it changes absolutely nothing at all... 'nso?