Silhouette of fear: my childhood guilt. It pressures me now, my parents raising their wood gavels in the hands of strangers, roommates, associates…
A rising tide I perpetually run from to keep my sense of self. So I don’t drown in the sea of fish and minnows. It’s only a sense too, and a wary one.
Disclaimer: I have nothing against young marriage or hometown settlers. I’m just generalizing for the sake of a point and my tired thumb typing on the iPhone wordpress app….
Anyway, it weirds me out how the average person ages immediately, almost over night, after they reach adulthood. They settle down, marry, have children and before they known it they’re 75 and can hardly bend over to tie their shoes with special built in othotics. I have an aunt who was the most gorgeous red headed baton twirler in high school. She was radiant, a major head turner like from anoyher planet. I know my mom envied her, envy being her biggest personality trait.
My aunt married a fellow classmate at 17 and cut her hair off to her ears. She had one of two kids the following year and found a job in real estate- an office near her church. She stayed in her childhood town. My mom moved to be a nurse and became a captain in the airforce where she met my dad. They married when she was my age and she started doing whatever he wanted and waiting and thinking and living for him, unhappily. Both women could be happy but I know my mom never was and they both have been on auto mode for years. Maybe that’s the usual, the idea of being an adult. What some coin discipline and livin for others, the responsibility of being a grownup. I see why Peter pan cringed and tinker bell flapped her wings away into a sparkLing haze.
This concept of adulthood is fear. A loss of vibrancy. Settling down by setting aside life for fear of loss, failure, guilt. And guilt tripping others in turn.
Maybe I’ll never be a proper adult, and maybe because of that I’ll never settle down and squirt out kids and get fat or settled. But as it stands now this seems completely okay and I’m relieved that my biggest responsibilities at 27 are still figuring myself out and feeding my cat. I know now why I thought everyone was a robot when I was a little girl, and I know what I must be, in a different form of adult, in order to ever feel deserving of children. My parents are disappointed but the world disappoints them and they don’t know me now any more than they ever have so the disappointment only makes me sad that we can’t be closer, but whatever happens, I have to live my own life. So there you go!
Some people are happy staying put and pooping out kids like eggs in a hen house. The true test is their laugh lines and the sparkle in their eyes. And basically, do they act righteous? Righteousness I find to be a reflection of misery and misery a component of bitchiness; and misery really does like company becuase it guilts you into feeling selfish and self centered and tells you to be some idea of someone which causes androidism. Until you follow you’re heart no charity, no children, no special work day for crippled people is going to come from the pit of your gut and there along with the heart is where a child lives preserved; so embrace that with grace, and maybe an adult is born. Of course I’m just rambling now.
I can’t access my own kitchen (see bitch from hell entry) so on my way home from ordering take-home Italian, I eavesdropped in the conversations of bums and transients on Telegraph. Of course, it’s not hard to eavesdrop on them because they’re talking to you and anyone who will listen. They aren’t selective in their audience. Nor do they care much to know who you are as ling as you keep quiet enough to unjudgementally listen to them. Maybe they had to many rules growing up, studied hard, had settled through their childhood, and were fed up. They seem pretty nuts lots of them. But they definitely have some sparkle, a Dionysian fervor. If adults could retain that with Apollo’s careful discipline, I imagine there would be less of a shift toward robots and more of a higher consciousness not yet defined by Eckart Tolle and Ken Wilber.