Awakened first in the middle of the night by AJ's desperate voice on the answering machine, ("Mom! I'm across from the subway stop. I had to tip-out tonight and I don't have money to get home!"), I was later awakened in surprise by the presence of an old recurring dream.
The basic plot is always the same. I am, usually by chance, in the presence of an old friend who was once an important part of my life. It is sometimes Elvis, or another long-ago lover, the one who wore a big winter coat. Alone, I enter the activity of their world, sometimes at a party, or a gallery opening. I am always excited to see them and I approach, hoping to make a connection, but they either don't see me or more often are uninterested in my presence. Sometimes the scenario gives me a bit more hope, and I think my old friend will acknowledge me, but it becomes obvious that they are avoiding me.
Gee, do you see how I might pick the wrong men? Ones who will forsake everything for me? But hell, isn't that what our culture demands, with marriage and monogamy and Christian virtue? We believe that investing money in an extravagant wedding indicates the value of the institution. And I have tried to believe in the institution, the legality, the folklore that teaches that parents must stay together to raise healthy children. The folklore that staying in a marriage for the long haul will bring a reward that you can experience no other way. That marriage is normal.
But I have walked away from normal. All my fears overtake me and I wonder if I can muster enough enthusiasm about life to care about the future. I am ready to cast aside all of those driving forces of our culture, all of the rules of attraction, all of the taken for granted. All of the tradition. In limbo, I wait to begin a new life. I, who dream of being taken care of, somehow became the caretaker of the world.
I tell Mallory that I don't want to see her any more.
MJ: Maybe I am doing the same thing with you that I have done with Steven. I didn't speak out. I stayed too long. I let your needs override mine, because I considered you the authority.
Mallory: When real-life patterns manifest themselves in therapy, real work can be done. I believe that you should stay.
MJ: I am afraid of my affection for you. I want to disappear from it. Maybe so I won't be hurt by it. You are my therapist. This friendship can only go so far.
Mallory: I genuinely care about you. Yes, there is money involved, there are boundaries, but that enables the work to be done.
I think about how people attach themselves to others, sometimes in healthy ways and sometimes not, and how deeply those currents run through our souls. I have left old friends behind, and those I have loved.
Funny, my heart literally hurts every time I think about our 18-year-old cat who died this spring. Her death was somehow connected to the death of my marriage. So deeply attached to her, years ago she would seek me out and insist that I follow her to the closet and stay close-by until her babies were born. I would admire them. Sometimes one beautiful calico, wet and unmoving, refused to enter the world. Cali's persistent tongue, her intense scrutiny, were useless, and I carried the one away. Perhaps that was my assigned job, to wait at the gate of death.
Divorce papers have been filed. My life now takes a turn. Through all of the fear ("You have a lot going on!" says Mallory), I see the future as if in a dream. Smiling, I find myself by chance in my own presence. I once was an important part of my life, and I am glad to see me! I enter the activity of my world and approach, hoping to make a connection. Holding my breath, detached observer that I am, I watch myself turn and acknowledge me. I am glad to see me.
