A familiar deep-set rage

from Trying

A familiar deep-set rage. It’s another rainy morning. Yesterday I walked in
and out of my spin class when I realized there was a sub. I winked at another
regular on my way out the door, not having it in me to be generous to a
stranger. Then I couldn’t bear to wait for the F train, impatient and offended
by the delay so I took the B instead, having to walk an extra 15 minutes to my
destination. For so many years “going out” was all I wanted to do. I long for
that former me in quiet ways. Trying to remember why it was fun. I’m sure
the rage is period related. That I am PMS-ing and will get my period soon.
Another failed attempt, which doesn’t mean anything really at this point. But
makes me remember my OBGYN asking me when I was 33 what my fertility
plans were and my eyes tearing up in front of her as response, because I didn’t
have a fertility plan and still don’t. I felt like she was pressuring me in the
most normative ways and I resented her for it. I wanted to say then that I
wasn’t ready and that I wouldn’t know when I was ready until I was ready.
That I abhorred the basic conforming life, the trying to make life nice with
things and expensive rugs and uniform wool socks. A friend gave me a
blender for my 30th birthday and I knew then that my life was over. That I
was becoming all of the things that I despised. Another birthday a few years
later, an immersion blender. Then I got married and got a food processor. And
I hate myself a little for these appliances, though they are useful and I have
used them and appreciate their functionality. That they have made tasks
easier. Why do I so resent making life easier and more convenient. Or is it
that I am embarrassed again by showing desire. It is easiest to desire nothing.
So no one can see your naked desires unmet. Your struggle without you
having crafted its tale first.