I'm da man!
Sometimes nothing isolates one as much so unwarranted praise does. Whether one is the clown on stage desperate to keep his humor alive or a lost soul sitting at a tea party letting dreams unlived be ascribed to you, it's a seductive form of loneliness one feels curiously tempted - forced even - to keep alive. They must never know!
Debby sat at such a tea party. The conversation had turned towards children and inwardly she withdrew, the words of her compatriots a cacophony in her precious ears. She listened with appropriate expressions and proper acknowledgement, but the verbal onslaught was so violent within, nary a word was distinct. She mused it must be like what a deaf person feels like if someone were to raucously shake them and scream into their face - you wouldn't know what they were saying but you damn sure knew what you felt.
Debby had always loved - and played well - the role of the Good Girl. This carried into her adult life with the raising of her two children. Always, always, always do what was expected, first and foremost. And no matter the personal cost to herself, she had done that. Now Debby reaped the rewards of her faithful duties as the compliments flowed down upon her from her overly-insistent friends. Only this time the compliments bound her and constrained her as in wrapping her in saran wrap. An ugly picture popped into her mind she seen once.
Dare she dispute them?
Why is it so bad this time? Is it because hubby is out of town and I feel freer to be myself? Are these the true feelings of my life? Can't be!
The gnawing worm never ceased. What am I here for? Could she truly be responsible to anything or anyone without being responsible to herself? In Debby's world, nothing was more heretical than to pursue her own interests. She had lead a selfish life and married her selfishness to boot. Were she to pursue her own dreams now Those Whose Approval She Sought Most would only call her selfish and unmindful of the needs of others. But dear God, that's what she is now!
Why can't their yapping mouths cease? Her thoughts drifted back to Him, the one who had mocked her so long ago, branding her soul with his faith in her. One of her duties as a secretary had been to dump out and clean the commercial sized coffee urn. She could hear him still: "Is that what you went to college for, Debby? You learn that in Coffee 101?" She was silent then too.
But did it really matter if she lived or died? She was just another useless soul wandering the face of the earth. What matter I?
The three terrorists who sipped tea and had slyly wrapped her in confined despair took much pleasure in her predicament. Seeing Debby too weak to fight back, not daring to dispute their lies, emboldened them in further righteous attacks. But the insanity of it had dawned on Debby and she knew she must speak before she drowned.
"I love my children and they'll always come first," she soothingly assured. "But, you know, sometimes you have to do things for yourself too. I have needs as well."
First, be your own friend
"Why of course you do, darling!" disagreed her friends. "Go out and do something selfish. Make yourself feel good."
Debby wondered: was that a victory? Were they finally conceding she needed more purpose out of life than just her motherly duties? Could they see her soul was dying having denied herself all these years? Yes! Yes! That's what they were saying! Debby needs a career even if her kids' lives suffer from what it is today. Free at last! Free at last!
Her friends continued their response to her meek proposal. "You know what you need to do? Go out and get yourself a new purse! Be good to yourself! Ain't nothing wrong with that, child!"
Debby always went out and got a new purse when she felt down. So far she had 86 finely crafted bags stuffed into her closet. It had always been the safe rebellion. Debby assured them that was exactly what she was going to do to give her life the meaning she craved for day and night. Again, this much pleased her tormenters.
Browsing coyly down the aisle, distracting herself with stylish contempt, Debby solaced herself with the thought that anyone as pathetic as she probably had no true purpose in life anyway. She lived in a hypnotic world of fluorescent lights and air conditioned stores and people paid to be pleasant. That Chanel bag in front of her was real. Her need to be whole was fiction of the mind. And most importantly, her children were happy. Who could dispute her?
For bag ladies of a different sort
Alone in the their rooms, Abigail and Jake were miserable in suffocating despair, hating the strangulation of their voices. Do I dare dispute Mom? She so needs to believe I'm happy. I can't break the silence. What matter I anyway?
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Far away, She was still on his mind:
The bad morning dream I woke from was ringing in my ears throughout the day. I fear I cannot keep my love alive for Her any longer. In my dream I had reached her house at last, only to find she had died and her husband had had her head stuffed and mounted over their bed. He'd made her head small and insignificant, and it was looking away with a forced smile. When I peered up close I could see her face clearly but it was not the face I had known. Behind me, I heard the one who mounted her speak. "Now she's mine forever."
My knees buckled in grief, and I drowned in the tidal waves of despair and sorrow that crashed over me. I startled myself awake but the dream still waits for me the next time I close my eyes.
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