The other day she asked me, "Why did you do that?"
To which I honestly replied, "because I wanted to."
I don't think she liked that answer. Or perhaps more correctly (even though it sounds weird to say it), I'm not sure that she understood. And she doesn't like it when she doesn't understand things. I think it scares her a little. It's one of the differences between us that has been pushed into focus lately. Her fear is my frustration. My restlesness. My anger.
And yet it is those very same frustrations that have created the insecurities and frozen footsteps that it probably doesn't take a fancy degree or a copay to recognize. I know the things that I want, but I don't always have power over them. Or perhaps it would be better to say that I fear what might happen when I do take control. That attaining one thing could only come at the cost of another. That the things I need and the things I have are somehow separate and disconnected. That there is "this," and there is "that" - and that I couldn't have it both ways.
That's what I thought.
Then I thought that I could organize freedom. Truly I believed that I could. No longer able or wanting to believe the false image I had created for myself as a 52hz whale, I sought reflections that would look back.
How scandinavian of me is it to only now realize that the person I was actually looking for in the mirror was myself? That the understanding I was so desperate to find was my own (even if it meant possibly costing someone else's). But it's not like it was some huge secret or epiphany -- I mean, you sussed it out, didn't you?
...long before I did, I'm afraid.
Now it's like I'm caught somewhere inbetween. Somehwere between wanting to uncoil my spine, wanting to be the person I saw in the mirror, and getting her to see it too. But the more it seems that request disconnects, the more the package is returned to sender, the more I worry that perhaps I'm still not seeing things as clearly as I need to.
Almost like trying to put a jacket on a snake.
To which I honestly replied, "because I wanted to."
I don't think she liked that answer. Or perhaps more correctly (even though it sounds weird to say it), I'm not sure that she understood. And she doesn't like it when she doesn't understand things. I think it scares her a little. It's one of the differences between us that has been pushed into focus lately. Her fear is my frustration. My restlesness. My anger.
And yet it is those very same frustrations that have created the insecurities and frozen footsteps that it probably doesn't take a fancy degree or a copay to recognize. I know the things that I want, but I don't always have power over them. Or perhaps it would be better to say that I fear what might happen when I do take control. That attaining one thing could only come at the cost of another. That the things I need and the things I have are somehow separate and disconnected. That there is "this," and there is "that" - and that I couldn't have it both ways.
That's what I thought.
Then I thought that I could organize freedom. Truly I believed that I could. No longer able or wanting to believe the false image I had created for myself as a 52hz whale, I sought reflections that would look back.
How scandinavian of me is it to only now realize that the person I was actually looking for in the mirror was myself? That the understanding I was so desperate to find was my own (even if it meant possibly costing someone else's). But it's not like it was some huge secret or epiphany -- I mean, you sussed it out, didn't you?
...long before I did, I'm afraid.
I'm sorry for that.
Now it's like I'm caught somewhere inbetween. Somehwere between wanting to uncoil my spine, wanting to be the person I saw in the mirror, and getting her to see it too. But the more it seems that request disconnects, the more the package is returned to sender, the more I worry that perhaps I'm still not seeing things as clearly as I need to.
Almost like trying to put a jacket on a snake.
[Listening to: Deep Inner Voices, "Noctilucent"]
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