Literally, I am sick and tired…my throat burns, my eyes sting. I should be in bed, watching the DVD of the Yacoubian Building that I ordered from Netflix. But I’m here instead, reflecting on this odd, odd existence.
The world feels like it is crashing and burning all around and then I see that this state is reflected inside me. I am crashing and burning internally. Inside, I am failing due to rampant speculation and un-regulation and wonder how or if I will be bailed out. I did my patriotic duty and watched the debates on Friday. I skim the headlines, read about a car bomb in Damascus, and wonder if my ex husband’s family is OK. Then I have to I have to limit my media intake because my skin is just so thin. I feel like I am that person I used to despise, the American who sticks her head in the sand, when it is her responsibility to be informed as to what is happening in the world when her tax dollars are paying for war and destruction elsewhere.
This has been a weird few days. Although I said I wouldn’t date, there are these men back in my life. A few of them, on the fringes of my life. Somehow I let them back in. I won’t write about them in any detail here except to say that two are new acquaintances and one is an old acquaintance. I am crazy about one of them (the old one) and not so crazy about the two new ones. I might go out with one of the two new ones again and one of them I definitely won’t go out with again.
The old acquaintance, the one I am crazy about — not sure if he is crazy about me. I’d like to think so but I just don’t know. Here I am on the hamster wheel again — watch out. But the difference is that I am not as caught up in it as I have been in the past. I have been crazy about others before and in time, it all falls away. I see it for what it is: illusion, infatuation, the manic energy of feeling like you are falling in love. Chemical reactions burst through my brain. It’s the fantasy bubble world, so shiny and it smells like Sami’s baby shampoo. But it’s not reality.
All I know is that I had one of the best conversations of my life with him yesterday. If nothing else, it makes me realize the potential, that there are people out there that I can connect just this deeply with. I have a tendency to feel separate, so separate, so the moments when I feel so much in tune with another being remind me of the truth of interconnectedness. Falling into conversation, seamless conversation, so not awkward, becautiful random words and ideas firing every other minute over Thai food.
In the company of such people I feel as if I am in a state of Grace, somehow, and it’s a spectacular thing. But I have to remember that it is always mine…that grace. It’s falling all around like rain. I just need to look up into the sky and down at the grass and wiggle my toes in the mud.
The memories of our conversation make me smile when I am driving, a smile that lasts through many stoplights and many turns. In the car today, I listen to Low’s Things We Lost in the Fire and I am suddenly, inexplicably flooded with memories of my pregnancy, of a fall three years ago before my son crossed over the bridge of my body into this world. (I imagine I was listening to that CD a lot at the time.) In my memories, I am blossoming and burgeoning and my stomach grows more and more taut and Sami-the-fetus kicks around at my ribs and it is the most innocent time of my adult life.
I had no idea that it would all come crashing down so completely. I’ve gotten to be so broken that I am blinded by light streaming in through the cracks. What a gift.
The anger at my ex has evaporated. I try to get mad. I try to get all fired up with self-righteousness about What He Did. And a lot of other people would agree that I should be mad as hell. They would encourage the flames of my anger to rise higher, and I could get so caught up in that. But I can’t find the anger, the anger that was so all-consuming just last week? The anger that stalked my mind so viciously? I see how these energies that feel like they will never leave are as ephemeral as the storms that passed through town this weekend.
Last night I had a very weird dream: I was in his house. In his marital bedroom to be exact. No one was there, so I started going through all their stuff. I found some pictures of the new wife and she was very young and very pretty, perhaps bordering on beautiful with a wistful smile. Then I felt betrayed, because my aunt (who has seen her) told me that she was very plain, that I was so much more beautiful, and I began to wonder if my aunt had lied to me just to make me feel better. Then I saw a glimpse of my ex, who was naked from the waist down, and I woke up feeling slightly sad and confused.
But every day is a new day. All dreams come to an end and every morning I am so lucky to awaken to a little bug in my bed who asks me to open the curtains and let in the light.
Welcome to this blog - my chronicle of the illuminating, character-building path of single parenthood. I'm making this up as I go along. My life is my practice, and my five year-old son is my greatest teacher.