Start And Start Again: New Beginnings
Is love blind or was it just too hard to see clearly when caught in a whirlwind? If love is blind, it must also be deaf. You were told, by all those that knew you both, that you weren’t seeing the whole picture. You just knew it was they who could not see what your love was like. How could they know? How did they know?
How did they know before you that he never talked to you, only at you? When you met, you were equals, or so it seemed then. Why is it that you are now a nothing, at home with a child, while he is out fighting with the real world? Why too have you suddenly become stupid and he a genius?
There was a time when there was no one in the world besides the two of you. Why aren’t you enough for him now? He says he doesn’t want to stagnate, to get into a rut. Does he really prefer those drunken barbarian friends of his over you? Did he really tell you you’re boring and he can’t imagine why he married you in the first place?
Day and night, you pace the floors and go through the motions of living. You do the laundry, feed the baby, clean the house, eat far too much and think. My God how much you think! You wonder where did it go sour, when did the whirlwind stop? You wonder too, do I love him? Did I ever love him?
One morning you wake up and are surprised to find him in the bed beside you. He is out cold. You have no idea where he was last night or what time he stumbled in. You look closely at him. Where is that exciting, virile lover you married? Who is this unshaven, sloppy man whose breath reeks of whiskey and stale cigarettes?
You pull yourself out of bed, and as you do, you catch sight of yourself in the mirror. At least you think it is you. Are you the plump figure in an old t-shirt, with flabby thighs, sagging breasts and puffy eyes from crying? Where is that chic, attractive young woman you were only yesterday? And why is that baby crying?
You go in and pick up the baby, his cries change to playful gurgles. It makes you feel good. You begin to talk to the baby and realize that this is the only human that you have talked to in days. Pieces begin to fall into place. This little person seems to be the only one who cares. He’s not exciting, or dashing or virile, but there is one thing for sure, he loves you.
Slowly you gather enough clothes for you and the baby. You know that all the things you once were, are still inside you. You can learn again to be independent. You must be independent now; you have someone very important who is depending on you. Looking back to the bedroom at the slumped over form just beginning to awaken, and then down into your son’s eyes, it becomes very clear. You feel positive that you are seeing it all, maybe for the first time.
……Or So She Thought
I had just read “The Women’s Room” by Marilyn French. Like so many other women, I rooted for the heroine, and although it was fiction, I began to believe that I too could have this experience.
But being a single Mom presented challenges the heroine did not face. I needed to be able to support a child as well as myself. I knew I needed a job before I could pursue an education. And this became the catch 22.
As a female teenager, I was told that college would be a waste of time and money, that I’d get married and wouldn’t need an education. This left only the most menial jobs, those that paid much less than I needed to support us. I was told that I needed more education. And, although it was just beginning to be outlawed, I was always asked about my marital status and if I had children. I remember the image I had of a door slamming as soon as I gave an honest answer.
My ex kept promising that he’d “be better” if we got back together. After several months I agreed to live with him, with one condition: I was to go to college. He eagerly agreed, saying that once I finished and got a job, he could quit working. It was apparent that he hadn’t changed that much.
It really didn’t matter to me what he said or what he did. I was going after something that I had wanted for so long, something I hadn’t had the courage or confidence to do. I remember the heroine in The Women’s Room starting her education wearing skirts, sweaters and pearls. I knew I would not make that mistake as I donned jeans and a t-shirt for my first day.
Entering the university that first day was truly a new beginning.
