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A Piece of Advice from the Cheshire Cat

23 Sep

– I was just wondering if you could help me find my way.

– Well that depends on where you want to get to. 

– Oh, it really doesn’t matter, as long as…

– Then it really doesn’t matter which way you go.

cheshire cat

I have no fucking clue where I’m going, it’s difficult to even say where I am, and I certainly don’t know where I want to be.

Two roads are diverging in this yellow wood. One will lead to a reunion, mother, father and son, living together, sharing the same ‘boat’, caught up in a routine of joys and sorrows, pausing to become excited by first words, first days at school, first fights, first loves, first disappointments. Anyone who says I can have that without BD – and I’ve been getting that – is wrong. I can try to create a similar kind of closeness. I can’t have THAT.

The other road leads me to great passion and comfort. Not necessarily with a partner – I’m doing pretty well on my own these days – but maybe, at some point, that too.  This road is reliable. It will never fail me. It’s the road in which I learn to accept the fact that my son and I are a complete unit that lacks nothing. It’s a road that makes me feel empowered, because I do everything on my own and prove to myself that I can. Only, I already know that I can. Everyone in my life knows this too, including BD. So who am I so desperately trying to impress?

I can’t shake the feeling that I’m missing something, misinterpreting something. Being let down by men, picking myself up and doing it on my own – it’s a nice narrative. It just seems a little too easy. It doesn’t really feel like it’s my story.

Most of my life I’ve been very opinionated, impulsive, stubborn. I don’t feel like these words really describe me anymore. And though I realize that people change, and it’s a good thing, and I know that I’ve been through quite a bit, and my priorities have changed now that I’m a mother, now that I’m separated, now that we’re “working on the relationship” again… Still, I’m not sure I’m liking this new me. I’m not sure I’m ready to give up opinionated, impulsive and stubborn for reasonable, level-headed and accommodating.


Down the Rabbit Hole

1 Jan

toysI was taking a walk in the park. The sky was blue, dotted with flaky white clouds, through which the sun shone brightly. I looked down and with a happy heart celebrated the sound of my shiny blue slippers crushing dry leaves and grass. There were roses, white and red, and a deep scent of perfume, warm and moist, filled the air around them, causing me to feel light-headed.

And there he was, a little white rabbit among the bushes, taunting me. Ha! I thought to myself. I’ve never followed a white rabbit before. I’m much more grounded than that. But wouldn’t it be nice, just for once, to be a little less leveled, to just do what I felt like doing without weighing pros and cons, without foreseeing consequences?

I’m late! I’m late! He said and started to run. It’s now or never. I better get going. And there I was, following him, behind the bushes and into the rabbit hole, falling blissfully down, a flailing jumble of arms and legs tangled in a blue satin dress. Falling endlessly, carelessly, feeling a rush of warm rosy air against my body. It’s going to hurt when I reach the bottom of this pit, I thought, but it didn’t, because as I fell the bottom kept growing father away, so instead of worrying about what was coming, I gave myself the gift of oblivion, and enjoyed the soothing dizziness and emptiness, the thrill of belonging to no one, and owing nothing, the tingling of fingertips, and weakness of knees, the lush kiss of the present against my neck.