As I've
mentioned, I
cherish solitude. These rare snippets of time, the rare nights I have alone are the essence of my
I. They are me in the truest sense because I orchestrate them for my own benefit and No Boys Allowed. I build them for me, I make sure my environment accommodates and reflects every little thing I need and want, consciously or not, to achieve my peace, my sense of
everything in its right place. Of course, these nights don't have to be such a rarity -- I could choose, as many do, to relive this ritual on a daily basis. I can see myself living my life this way, in comfort, in an organized, crisp, warm environment, reminiscent of those long lost and once mourned years of my childhood, before my mother left and
chaos began its reign.
Why do I choose to reinforce the chaotics habits I've accumulated over the past 12 years? I make this choice daily -- in my personality, lifestyle, self-perception, the masks I put on and take off. This choice is the source of such tremendous stress for me. To think that such a massive change could come from few nights a week spent making plans, creating a peaceful home-life, getting calmly prepared for the morning after... it gives me the heebies. Instead, I throw myself blindly down the rabbit hole, pieces of me scatter at the bottom, wandering off disassembled like a
bad Svankmajer trip.The person who transitioned 12 years ago lost every element of stability in her life as she watched the
Sword of Damocles teether and drop. She learned to distrust the safety of the home, the calm of things as they should be. All the sweetness in life was extracted from hers and she never recovered. She coped by accepting Chaos, inviting him in, accommodating herself to him. She still had the needs of a child but learned to ignore them, for fear that they would never, could never be fulfilled. But why now? Why am I still so afraid that as soon as I find my peace,
build my peace, someone or something will jolt it head first into oblivion? Am I afraid that I've lost my ability to
create that peace completely, the way I lost my French, my piano skills, the sanctity of my child-body, my faith in myself?
Yet here I am, spending this one day of work on
me, giving myself one day to do as I please and feel like I deserve it. A split second decision and this gift is within my grasp, I feel it and it feels so incredibly good. Can I repeat it? Do I want to? Perhaps, having invited Chaos in (for fear that he would barge in unannounced if I didn't), I now crave his company. Chaos has become a part of me I no longer want to let go. Yet I am so terribly sick of being afraid-anxious-worried constantly. The neverending pile of unreviewed documents filling every cavity of my inner and outer space, threatening to suffocate me, closing in...
I know that
Clean Adult Living works better as a sarcastic quip than a way of life -- it is unsustainable. Is that a good enough reason, though, to give up on it completely? It's balance that I'm seeking and it's balance I need to learn. I'll do it for a few days, frame it as an experiment to fool the
Puckish spirit of anxiety-procrastination, and see the results. I've done this experiment before, but the contentious spirit, the choice Chaos made, proved too violent and perhaps too tempting to avoid the all-encompassing crash. I can only try again. One step forward followed by another... The hedonistic
Tarantella must be left for others to dance today.
