The Weight of the World

BUFFY : This was when I quit, Will.

WILLOW: You did?
BUFFY: Just for a second.

BUFFY: Nothing special about it. And then it hit me.
WILLOW: What hit you?
BUFFY: I can't beat Glory. Glory's going to win.
WILLOW: You can't know that.
BUFFY :  I didn't just know it. I felt it. Glory will beat me. And in that second of knowing it, Will...I wanted it to happen.
WILLOW: Why?
BUFFY: I wanted it over. This is ... all of this ... it's too much for me. I just wanted it over. If Glory wins ... then Dawn dies. And I would grieve. People would feel sorry for me. But it would be over. And I imagined what a relief it would be.

Buffy is my security blanket. When I need comfort, I watch Buffy. There's always something that Buffy has gone through that I can relate to my own life. Hers is invariably worse, and it makes me feel better.

I had this scene. Instead of re-shelving a book, it was carrying my tea back to my office. And I gave up. I imagined what a relief it would be to give up on having children, and not have to carry this weight on my shoulders anymore. I imagined my life without kids and I accepted it and I wanted it to happen. I would get to grieve only once, and then it would be over.

I haven't truly given up, of course. I'm still trying; I'm still hoping. But the idea is there and it pops in from time to time. It's not necessarily bad. It helps temper the hope so the fall of disappointment isn't too great. Maybe it's a step in the direction of acceptance. Maybe I just needed a moment of respite, to give me strength to keep on fighting.