Looking for My Reflection

Days like today, in which I had everything to do yet nothing in particular that I wanted to attend to, make me ride the roller coaster of emotion. I am strong, I am weak, I am dependent on others yet I am independent. I can make my own decisions to be the bad girl of fun and chance that lives within my heart and rises up occasionally, or I can be the good girl of reason and logic that I usually operate in. In a strange form of awakening, I am realizing that pain often dictates the daily decisions that I make. Patricia Williams, in her essay “On Being the Object of Property” writes:

There are moments in my life when I feel as though a part of me is missing. There are days when I feel so invisible that I can’t remember what day of the week it is, when I feel so manipulated that I can’t remember my own name, when I feel so lost and angry that I can’t speak a civil word to the people who love me best. These are the times when I catch sight of my reflection in store windows and am surprised to see a whole person looking back. (1988)

I know that other women feel like I do, but I didn’t know that anyone could ever describe exactly how I can feel at times. For me, the pain comes from many aspects of life. Be it childhood, adolescence, my first marriage, the divorce, the fear of not being able to provide for my hurting children, religion, the future, not adequately meeting up to the expectations of others, my second marriage, my family, my future. All of this propels me into the whirlwind of life and as I spin I’m formed like a lump of clay on a potters wheel. Some days I am strong and on the top of my game, powerful, educated, happy. I know where I’m going, how to get there and I am unstoppable. On other days, the pain drives me to operate out of the portion of my brain labeled “I don’t give a fuck.” On those days I am even more powerful, more educated, and fierce. The pain of life is numbed by independence and a kick ass attitude. Operating out of that frame of mind can be dangerous if I don’t keep myself bridled. I like those days. Sometimes the whirlwind kicks me into a mode that is the worst for me. It is a place of complacency and fear. I do nothing, I say nothing, and I am nothing. I loathe that woman. She is lazy and too caring and loves too much. She is a weak woman that to me represents poor women everywhere who are codependent and stuck in the shit of life. 

I’m looking at myself and realizing that my life is similar to a toddler learning to walk. I take a few steps, realize they are safe, and so I run. I run free and wild with no restraints. I start to skip and jump, then find myself with my nose on the cement. Like that child I’m in shock, I cry, and I look for comfort. Does it mean that I’ll never fall again? Of course not, but it does slow me down, and I remind myself to be a little more careful.