Monday, March 30, 2009

Exploration and the Expansion of Ego

Sometime, anytime, another time, I changed. Became a different person, another person. A totally new being completely unrelated to the person I was before.

I became a mother.

And with that, I became something completely bigger than myself. Something that would begin to define me, absolutely separate from anything, any term I had used in the past. Something that would belong completely to me, yet have absolutely nothing to do with me.

Somewhere along the line I became more than one person could ever be expected to become. I became responsible for more than just myself. And more than that even.

In trying to pinpoint the moment of transition, in attempting to determine when, where, what the catalyst was for this momentous exchange of emotion between myself and my new purpose; it seems infallible to try to narrow it down to one set of moments. One time where the sleepless nights, and the incessant questioning started and my other life ended. When the worrying began, where the road from point A to point B became the new blueprint of authenticity, where all exits led to another person and selfishness became a one way street.

Then the questioning began. Am I going to fail? Is it possible to succeed? In building another human am I losing the parts of myself that I loved the most? Am I worthy? Am I embarrassing? Will I fuck him up before he has a chance at happiness? Is he bonding, independent, too needy, too ahead of the curve, too far behind? And am I the person capable to make the decisions that I can't make for myself?

And you breathe.

And you push.

And somewhere between the blood. And the shit. And the tearing of flesh. And the creation of life from where once there was nothing you realize:

I know nothing.

I am nothing.

And you cry out. To God. To friends. To anyone who knew you when. Knew you before you woke up in this new reality. This new prison of expectation in the fog of insecurity and abhorrent idealism.

To anyone, everyone, Someone. Willing to walk with you. Willing to lead you, teach you, prepare you for preparing someone else to prepare yet another generation of preparation.

And at some point, when you're not fully convinced, when you've turned your back on the former life you once strove so hard to protect, when all your work and efforts at becoming the person you used to be take a back seat to the person you have to be, for him, for you, for them; it becomes painfully obvious that you don't know what the fuck you're doing. That you're just as blind as he is, as they are. That you wander through this desert of independence, co dependence, and know that nothing will ever be the same. Nothing will ever look the same. Nothing will ever feel the same.

And everything you never thought you wanted becomes completely worth it in the end.

And you breathe.

And you expand.

And you sleep on it.
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