I am still hanging out in Des Moines with my sister and the
kids. The place is small, cramped for the three (sometimes four if my oldest
niece wanders her way home) people who live here, let alone me and my baggage.
I sleep on the loveseat. Also cramped. I slept here before, a few years ago. I’d
just moved back from Richmond with a plan of a better job and a bigger place
with sis and her kids as well as my own kid. Plans changed. I fell in love.
Made new plans. Plans change.
I am again in the process of plan-making. Trying to decide what
I want to be when I grow up. Except that I know what I want to be, what I am. I
just have to decide how to make a living at it. And then make a living at it.
In the meantime, I need to find a place of my own to live. I do best when I
live alone, when I am responsible only for me and can’t attribute my failures
to anyone’s actions but my own. Because I am to blame for my own mistakes. And
sometimes I forget that. Even worse, sometimes I blame myself for others’
failings. I have to stop doing that too.
So in the tradition of giving up before you even begin . . .
I met someone who was worth it – all the heartache and the
risk – because she gave me something I’d never had before. She taught me what
it meant to be happy, really happy. And she gave me hope. That things would
work out. That I could always be that happy. That life would always be this
good.
Plans change. People too.
I haven’t lived alone in six years. I guess it’s a lie that
I always do best when I live alone. You know, now that I think about it. I was
homeless there for a bit. And working two jobs. I was even robbed once and
ripped off by a crappy roommate. And I missed finishing grad school because of
one stupid thesis credit (and eight grand in tuition). Worked for a horrible
woman who made me feel like shit about myself every single day. I couldn’t even
afford to travel back to Iowa and pick up the kid (whose father had refused to
put him on a plane as we’d agreed), so he ended up staying in Iowa an entire
year longer.
Despite all of it though, maybe because of all of it, I found
out for the first time in my life how to relax. How to let go. I mean, what can
you do? At a certain point, when everything is falling down around you, the
ever-growing pile of shit consuming you, there is only so much crying, so much
worrying, so much pain you can endure. There
are only so many plans you can watch blow up in your face. At some point, you
just have to say fuck it. Who needs plans anyway?
I don’t know where I’m going from here or what I’m going to
do. I’m looking for an apartment. By myself as I mentioned. Mostly because I
don’t have any plans, nothing long-term anyway, and it’s just easier to wander
about aimlessly if you don’t have to answer to a roommate. Maybe someday I’ll
find one who’s worth it. Maybe I already had my chance.
The kid is nineteen now. Grown. Independent. Still learning
about the world. I wasn’t always there for him, not like a traditional mom. And
this last year or so . . . it’s a daunting task to take care of someone else
when you’re barely alive. I want to be more for him than I have. I want him to
be the best person he can be and he deserves the same from me. I’m his role
model (a fact I have both known all along and failed to understand) and though
I always planned to teach through example (take chances, be more than you
already are, learning is the point of life) I’ve found that some of my examples
he learned far too well (always put yourself first, don’t get muddled down by
emotional attachments, be greedy with your time – it’s all you have).
I’m looking for some place close to him, where he can come
and visit. Maybe spend the weekend sometimes while I get it together. I’ve been
a bit afraid to face him. Feeling like I failed, like there was no chance of
success or happiness, I’ve been thinking I let him down. But I recently
remembered what I taught myself all those years ago and what an amazing woman once
helped me to perfect. I know how to be happy. No matter what my plans. No
matter how they go. And I want to make
sure my son knows it too.
I won’t forget again. And I won’t spend so much time
guarding against unhappiness. When I had nothing to lose, it was easy not to
freak out. When I had everything to lose . . . well that’s where I am learning
to relax. Other than that, I really have no plans. They seem to change anyway.
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