Any women who desired to carry a child but suffers from infertility has likely pondered the notion the life is efffin' unfair.
I sometimes wonder how life looks so tidy for some people. They always seem to have their ducks in a row, are able to make life plans and follow through with them, are happy with themselves, have supportive loving families, have the means to do what they want to do and the people to help them through it.
Then there are us on the outside of this circle of tidy. Us bruised, abused, recovered or in the throws. Us suffering, lonely, lost then maybe found. There are us who were born into dysfunction and who have to work damn hard to learn how to recognize this dysfunction and then undo it. There are us with wounds that follow our family name, cursed it seems.
While walking outside and enjoying the yellow and green autumn leaves decorating my view of the sky I came upon a theory.
Why is life so tidy for some and messy for others?
So the tidies can help the messies get cleaned up.
It's a theory with holes in it but it does address a phenomenon that seems unfathomably cruel.
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