Every woman has the moment. Moments for some. She becomes caught up in a vortex of her now and her ideal now and realizes that to get from here to now she has to be bold. She has to be decisive and inventive. She has to be… honest.
Honesty is the hard part. Part of her wiring has a proportion of nurturing that no amount of corporate climbing, women’s lib or independence can tamp out. There is an anomalous part of her that thinks about other and adds their feelings and well-being into her plans for her future. She loves. She cares. She sacrifices.
But, for one minute, let’s just assume she can be 100% about her. What would she do? Would she move to the rainforest to protect the Amazon, leaving her children with their father? Would she be free to express and receive unconditional love in a polyamorous arrangement, not caring about social norms and boxes, only with her desire to have her emotional needs met? Would she leave Maine to take the job in Sacramento that’s more than her husband’s salary, provides significantly more satisfaction and finally moves her past mediocrity to a place where she can soar? Or would she mute all these ideas because of her labels: mother, lover, wife, sister, daughter, cousin, friend? When does she put herself first for the greater good? For her good? Her development? Her evolution?
I ponder this by candlelight. The uncertainty of the return to modern life allows me quiet and freeform thinking to mull over the choices we make. Not just women, but men too. At what cost to self does taking one for the team entail? What harm do we inflict to us for the greater good? I think about that sometimes. I think about a life where I am responsible for my dreams and aspirations. I don’t have to defend my emotional needs and voids or slap a label on them like ‘moody’ or ‘sappy’. In my ideal world, I don’t have to explain why I need the PDA right now from the kids or the Hero, I just get it. I don’t feel embarrassed for feeling. For contact. For intimacy. It’s natural and normal in my perfect world.
But, perfection doesn’t exist. My affinity for dominant personalities usually finds the package devoid of PDA. It calls forth the dichotomies of my life. The things that I want without the usual packaging. It sometimes makes me feel like the social pariah always on the outskirts looking at the groups, trying to figure out how or where I fit. Sometimes I find my niche, but others, I’m lost in a sea of uncertainty, wondering why I’m not like ‘them’ and why I can’t have what ‘they’ have.
But honestly, ‘they’ are a life story. ‘They’ represent the Lifetime move I’m trained to want my life to mirror: the well-adjusted kids, loving and devoted spouse, the cute family dog and a house in the suburbs. And in all honesty that’s not what I want deep in my heart of hearts. My heart wants to flutter when I see my lover. I want to be free to love my kids and be honest about who I am at any minute with them, dispelling the cute little boxes that they’ve learned from the Disney Channel. I want to be free to express my love for another or others as my heart leads. Man, I just want to be me without the rigid boundaries of anything from anyone, be it monogamy or polyamory. Me. That’s who I was born to be and who I am constantly defining and exploring.
So after the judgment, most people realize that’s who they also aspire to be. Themselves. Uninhibited. Accepted. Embraced.