CAUTION: This blog entry starts off ok, but quickly plunges into somewhat personal territory. I posted it so obviously I don’t mind you reading it; I just wanted to make you aware that this week my emotions took a dip in the deep end of the pity pool. Please put your floaties on before jumping in.
She had been forced into prudence in her youth; she learned romance as she grew older: the natural sequel of an unnatural beginning. Persuasion - Chapter 4
I finished reading Persuasion the other day. Have you ever read a book and at the end felt sad that it was over? That's how I feel about Persuasion; I never want it to end. It's one of the very few books that I can read over and over again. Come to think of it, Jane Austen's books are the only one's I've ever wanted to read multiple times. The story of Anne Elliot grabs me and won’t let go. Probably because I can identify with being an old maid; Anne was seven-and-twenty when Captain Wentworth finally came to his senses. And while I am not yet five-and-thirty I feel the weight of it. Much like Anne who lived in a society that pushed marriage as the means of a woman “making her way”, I live in a society (religious) where I exist in a state of limbo. Both of us looked at as having something wrong with us because of our age and marital status. Don’t get me wrong, both Anne and I are loved by our friends and family (both families being seriously dysfunctional), but our “societies” views are a lot less forgiving.
Unlike Anne though, I do not have a Captain Wentworth who’s living with his sister and brother-in-law in my old home just a few miles up the road.
Entering pity pool -
Here’s something to chew on and something that bothers me when I think about it: I have never loved before. I love my mother; I love my friends but I’ve never even had a serious crush that I thought was love. If you’ve read my blog in the past week or so, you’ll have read that I was engaged once. Now obviously you would think that being engaged would require some feelings that could be (mis)construed as love; love, lust, infatuation, etc. You would think so, but no. Why did I engage myself to him? Good question. No answer.
Sharp drop into deep end -
I think my mom thinks I’m gay. She actually came up and asked me one day! Maybe it’s a defense mechanism for her to try and figure out why her only daughter has never married and produced grand children for her. (The same question could be applied to my brothers who’ve never married and produced grand children, but then again, they tend to sleep around with all kinds of women, and so answers their sexual preference.) When telling her about my previous relationships and broken engagement, she asked me why they didn’t work. Part of my answer to her was that I didn’t like holding their hand. Sounds like a funny little answer but it was how I felt (I have physical contact issues). I wish I’d never told her. She’s never meant to be malicious, but there have been times that she’s said it back to me in a sarcastic manner and even once said it in mixed company. It was quite humiliating. She once made a comment that went something like this, “I’m never going to have grand children.” I screamed at her to shut up and leave me alone. That went over well! Since then we’ve been in what you would call a truce; we ignore and step around the issue. Very healthy!!
Climbing out and drying off -
That was over 12 years ago. Feels like a lifetime. I hope my post doesn’t sound angry. If anything its disappointment with a tinge of fear that I feel. Disappointment that no matter how “normal” my life sounds when read in my patriarchal blessing, it hasn’t played out that way. Fear that I’ve done something to rewrite my life and that my patriarchal blessing is null and void.
So there you go; what I’ve been thinking about for the past week. For anyone who noticed that I hadn’t posted since last Monday, here’s the reason.
Stacey – Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! - for inviting me over Sunday. I was in the deep end of the pool and your invitation was the hand that helped me out and handed me a towel.