I know that most of my posts so far have been whimsical at best- a random quote or picture here or there. It's because I don't have stories that are terribly interesting to tell. I have a VERY vivid imagination, but those are my sacred adventures. If I let them out, they might skip away into oblivion and prove to be not quite as beautiful as I once dreamed.
In this case, though, I start with a quote by Peter Pan; a boy who I have adored and cherished more dearly than any lover that I could ever take, and have always kept close to my heart.
"Forget them, Wendy. Forget them all. Come with me where you'll never, never have to worry about grown up things again."
Now that I am a woman, and not particularly young or beautiful or spontaneous anymore (never due to lack of wanderlust, just the overabundance of responsibility) these words provoke a pain in my heart that I swear feels so binding that I instantly become tongue tied, out of breath, and heartbroken.
One might think that as the mother of three very lively, active, beautiful beyond a fairy dream, imaginative children, the two oldest of which have large arrays of imaginary friends and elaborate plans for the future, would be a pro at keeping this kind of feeling at bay. After all, what keeps us young and blithe? What keeps us able to remember the secret things that ring in our ears at night when the stars whisper to each other over our sleeping heads full of hair bleached white from a thousand summers of swimming through tall grasses and cuddling up to the glossy waters of a back-yard swamp? Children of course. I don't believe I actually had to answer that question.
Yet here I sit, at my computer while one baby is asleep and the other two are down stairs, eyes glued to someone else's genious called "Nightmare Before Christmas" (a.k.a. "Jack the Pumpkin King" to my children.) instead of rolling in the grass of this faboulous August indian summer that we're having with their mother.
The fact is that I've come to this point where this quote by Peter Pan, "Forget them, Wendy. Forget them all. Come with me where you'll never, never have to worry about grown up things again." has taken on a whole new meaning.
So what DOES this quote mean then? Well, in the book, Peter is trying to entice Wendy, a lovely girly little thing who would love nothing more than to see a real fairy or a mermaid abathe in the crystal murkiness of a deep pool, to go with him to Neverland so that her father will not make her leave the nursery and grow up.
For as long as I can remember I've read this book in awe, with my mouth watering for an adventure like theirs. For innocence once again, for some kind of unwavering, unconditional love. Peter Pan is not a romantic love story (despite the fabulously amazing new movie that came out Christmas Day of 2003. I know it came out that day because my husband of one month took me to see it for our first christmas as a married couple. Many Peter Pan encounters have happened for special occasions in our marriage, including a live play. It was the first.) but don't children love so deeply and so faithfully that they have already forgiven you by the time you realize you've done something stupid? Like me, for example, ignoring my babies while I type away on my computer, something SO important that it can't wait, but they can? ~note the tremendous ammounts of sarcasm puddling on my keyboard~
I'm feeling sorry for myself. And I'm saying goodbye to something that was woven so intricately into my beating heart that I think it's okay for me to feel sorry for myself. Some things have happened in the last few days and I have decided that I am done with everything else. I'm going to "forget them" per Peter Pan's advice, and move along so that I don't grow old.
Forget who, you say? Well, I don't think you'd understand if I told you the whole thing, and I think that it would just embarass a lot of people. But I blog about it because 1. I know that they're not reading this. Most of them haven't even LOOKED here, though I'd told them about it. They have better things to do, better connections, and for all my effort and energy thrown into THEM, they don't have any left for me. 2. Since reason number 1 is in immediate effect, I have no one to talk to. Before I can abandon my old idea of what kept me young and beautiful and worth while, and before I can throw myself into being a creative, affectionate, doting mother, I have to hash this out and it has to be on my own because I'm sick to death of my opinions and my convictions and my affection being wasted on those I think love me, just so they can throw those and false accusations back in my face. A thousand times I would have walked through fire or faced a raging dragon for them and proudly waved my loyalty like a flag for all to see. But any of their support, when the turmoil is public, when their "Switzerland" facade, their oh-so-calm front might be disrupted, support is only given behind the scenes. "I love you" and "yes I agree with you" and all that can only be said so many times before it loses it's flavor and becomes monontonous. If one isn't willing to step up and defend a friend, then how is a person supposed to know that behind the scenes support isn't going to both sides? How can one ever regain even a little bit of stature or respect or even GIVE it when they were left to be kicked and dragged through the proverbial mud? And then, when one DOES dare stand up for you, they are told to butt out because they don't have a leg to stand on, even though the "leg" they're giving is the same argument the self righteous, hypocritical bastards who provoked the stand did themselves?
No matter the sorrys no matter the pats on the head you get when the "dust has settled", there is no real going back. I've faced it for too long, and been rejected and renounced too many times to let this go on any longer. I refuse to apologize. None of the things I said were said to BE mean. They WERE mean, but the truth is often mean when a person knows it's true and refuses to change what's wrong. I meant what I said, even in this state of calmness that has washed over me, none of the things I said require apology. Or it would be a false one.
To a specific person who told me that I had no right to say anything about something I know nothing about (yes, that's confusing, but for reasons stated already I will not elaborate) and that that person could say the same thing about me because I happen to be a stay at home mother, well, all I have to say about that is that NO YOU CAN'T. The person in question doesn't do ANYTHING like I do it. My being a SAHM IS a JOB, and it takes all my time and energy and love, whereas that isn't even up for debate in the other case that it takes none of that.
So what does this quote have to do with any of this?
I'm going to forget them. Because in the last two days of being completely alone in this world since a very severe breakup back in college 8 years ago, a sort of out of body experience taught me that the thing that will keep me young, beautiful, restless, mysterious and alluring is not a calendar. It is not a group. It is not a name. It is my children. It is my home. It is my family. And it is embracing my womanhood instead of trying to be forever young.
And how does this help me to "never have to worry about grown up things again" ? Because every bit of drama and heartache and angry feelings and even some of my serious financial stress in my life stems from this particular group. To give up some of those people, because, let's face it, we've all changed and some of them are just not good people anymore, and personally, I feel that I am a better person (NOT to be confused with me saying that i think I'm a better person than THEY are, just that I'm a better person than I USED to be) now than I was, and I think in some ways they pull me down to where I can't be as good as I could be. Sometimes, not growing up means that you HAVE to grow up. It means to move on, as children do, forgetting what was wrong and just going with what's good. What WAS good for me is no longer good for me. I'm growing up. I'm moving on. I'm taking up a responsibility to lose myself in my children. (And of course my awesome wings you all know you want to buy.)
Of course there are those who I still love dearly. Those who will always be my sisters or brothers. I'm not talking to them right now either because I just need to be alone. I just need time to let my demons withdraw and go back to rest within my soul before I can face them. This may take a good chunk of time. And I don't mean just a few days. I need some peace. Some quiet. Some one on one time with the ones who matter. Some time to slowly cut the laces and let go.
In this case, though, I start with a quote by Peter Pan; a boy who I have adored and cherished more dearly than any lover that I could ever take, and have always kept close to my heart.
"Forget them, Wendy. Forget them all. Come with me where you'll never, never have to worry about grown up things again."
Now that I am a woman, and not particularly young or beautiful or spontaneous anymore (never due to lack of wanderlust, just the overabundance of responsibility) these words provoke a pain in my heart that I swear feels so binding that I instantly become tongue tied, out of breath, and heartbroken.
One might think that as the mother of three very lively, active, beautiful beyond a fairy dream, imaginative children, the two oldest of which have large arrays of imaginary friends and elaborate plans for the future, would be a pro at keeping this kind of feeling at bay. After all, what keeps us young and blithe? What keeps us able to remember the secret things that ring in our ears at night when the stars whisper to each other over our sleeping heads full of hair bleached white from a thousand summers of swimming through tall grasses and cuddling up to the glossy waters of a back-yard swamp? Children of course. I don't believe I actually had to answer that question.
Yet here I sit, at my computer while one baby is asleep and the other two are down stairs, eyes glued to someone else's genious called "Nightmare Before Christmas" (a.k.a. "Jack the Pumpkin King" to my children.) instead of rolling in the grass of this faboulous August indian summer that we're having with their mother.
The fact is that I've come to this point where this quote by Peter Pan, "Forget them, Wendy. Forget them all. Come with me where you'll never, never have to worry about grown up things again." has taken on a whole new meaning.
So what DOES this quote mean then? Well, in the book, Peter is trying to entice Wendy, a lovely girly little thing who would love nothing more than to see a real fairy or a mermaid abathe in the crystal murkiness of a deep pool, to go with him to Neverland so that her father will not make her leave the nursery and grow up.
For as long as I can remember I've read this book in awe, with my mouth watering for an adventure like theirs. For innocence once again, for some kind of unwavering, unconditional love. Peter Pan is not a romantic love story (despite the fabulously amazing new movie that came out Christmas Day of 2003. I know it came out that day because my husband of one month took me to see it for our first christmas as a married couple. Many Peter Pan encounters have happened for special occasions in our marriage, including a live play. It was the first.) but don't children love so deeply and so faithfully that they have already forgiven you by the time you realize you've done something stupid? Like me, for example, ignoring my babies while I type away on my computer, something SO important that it can't wait, but they can? ~note the tremendous ammounts of sarcasm puddling on my keyboard~
I'm feeling sorry for myself. And I'm saying goodbye to something that was woven so intricately into my beating heart that I think it's okay for me to feel sorry for myself. Some things have happened in the last few days and I have decided that I am done with everything else. I'm going to "forget them" per Peter Pan's advice, and move along so that I don't grow old.
Forget who, you say? Well, I don't think you'd understand if I told you the whole thing, and I think that it would just embarass a lot of people. But I blog about it because 1. I know that they're not reading this. Most of them haven't even LOOKED here, though I'd told them about it. They have better things to do, better connections, and for all my effort and energy thrown into THEM, they don't have any left for me. 2. Since reason number 1 is in immediate effect, I have no one to talk to. Before I can abandon my old idea of what kept me young and beautiful and worth while, and before I can throw myself into being a creative, affectionate, doting mother, I have to hash this out and it has to be on my own because I'm sick to death of my opinions and my convictions and my affection being wasted on those I think love me, just so they can throw those and false accusations back in my face. A thousand times I would have walked through fire or faced a raging dragon for them and proudly waved my loyalty like a flag for all to see. But any of their support, when the turmoil is public, when their "Switzerland" facade, their oh-so-calm front might be disrupted, support is only given behind the scenes. "I love you" and "yes I agree with you" and all that can only be said so many times before it loses it's flavor and becomes monontonous. If one isn't willing to step up and defend a friend, then how is a person supposed to know that behind the scenes support isn't going to both sides? How can one ever regain even a little bit of stature or respect or even GIVE it when they were left to be kicked and dragged through the proverbial mud? And then, when one DOES dare stand up for you, they are told to butt out because they don't have a leg to stand on, even though the "leg" they're giving is the same argument the self righteous, hypocritical bastards who provoked the stand did themselves?
No matter the sorrys no matter the pats on the head you get when the "dust has settled", there is no real going back. I've faced it for too long, and been rejected and renounced too many times to let this go on any longer. I refuse to apologize. None of the things I said were said to BE mean. They WERE mean, but the truth is often mean when a person knows it's true and refuses to change what's wrong. I meant what I said, even in this state of calmness that has washed over me, none of the things I said require apology. Or it would be a false one.
To a specific person who told me that I had no right to say anything about something I know nothing about (yes, that's confusing, but for reasons stated already I will not elaborate) and that that person could say the same thing about me because I happen to be a stay at home mother, well, all I have to say about that is that NO YOU CAN'T. The person in question doesn't do ANYTHING like I do it. My being a SAHM IS a JOB, and it takes all my time and energy and love, whereas that isn't even up for debate in the other case that it takes none of that.
So what does this quote have to do with any of this?
I'm going to forget them. Because in the last two days of being completely alone in this world since a very severe breakup back in college 8 years ago, a sort of out of body experience taught me that the thing that will keep me young, beautiful, restless, mysterious and alluring is not a calendar. It is not a group. It is not a name. It is my children. It is my home. It is my family. And it is embracing my womanhood instead of trying to be forever young.
And how does this help me to "never have to worry about grown up things again" ? Because every bit of drama and heartache and angry feelings and even some of my serious financial stress in my life stems from this particular group. To give up some of those people, because, let's face it, we've all changed and some of them are just not good people anymore, and personally, I feel that I am a better person (NOT to be confused with me saying that i think I'm a better person than THEY are, just that I'm a better person than I USED to be) now than I was, and I think in some ways they pull me down to where I can't be as good as I could be. Sometimes, not growing up means that you HAVE to grow up. It means to move on, as children do, forgetting what was wrong and just going with what's good. What WAS good for me is no longer good for me. I'm growing up. I'm moving on. I'm taking up a responsibility to lose myself in my children. (And of course my awesome wings you all know you want to buy.)
Of course there are those who I still love dearly. Those who will always be my sisters or brothers. I'm not talking to them right now either because I just need to be alone. I just need time to let my demons withdraw and go back to rest within my soul before I can face them. This may take a good chunk of time. And I don't mean just a few days. I need some peace. Some quiet. Some one on one time with the ones who matter. Some time to slowly cut the laces and let go.
2 comments:
*hug*
My my! You've really been affected by the Peter Pan story! (Meant as a complimentary and good thing.) Nice to see someone so moved by literature and give it so much thought. :)
If you need more Pan, there's a novel out based on Barrie's idea for more adventure. Click my name.
Thanks for inspiring others to be inspired by stories. :)
BELIEVE!
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