Posts Tagged ‘matryoshka dolls’

Matryoshka dolls and pulled teeth, or, pass the laudanum?

September 24, 2009

The mother of my daughter’s other father is coming over today. Oh, look at the little layers of insulation, like a set of goddamned matryoshka dolls, this is how I nestle away my feelings and keep myself safe from them. I start with myself and erect shell after painted shell all around me: this means I am very tiny inside. Did you know?

You see, he got married in the last few weeks (stab), and has another child, now, a boy (twist), and has apparently totally turned his life around and aren’t I such an awful person for thinking him a stranger to me and to my daughter? I know it’s more, I know it’s more repressed and deeply painful even than the obvious things I can think of to say about why it’s bothering me so much, why it’s like a sliver of glass in my heart, cutting deeper and deeper with every breath. Am I holding him responsible for the fact that I and my daughter were not enough to make him want to become this awesome new person his friends tell me he is (not at all the person I miss anymore, I guess, I guess that person is gone forever), not like his New and Improved girlfriend, I’m sorry, wife and his New and Improved baby. They are the ones who get to have him around and hear his voice every day, whereas I get to wake up every day and know very specifically that I will not see him and will not hear from him that day. And as that pain is on me, I have to let go of that hurt.

I am glad he found someone who seems faithful and kind and full of grace, plus someone who is, like him, really good-looking and also musically talented like he is, I honestly am, they will probably go far together. But the son…and the wedding…and the probable amazing amounts of pure happiness, when I am in the midst of this waking-up to my old repressed self and this marital separation, that is such a kick in the stomach, especially coming from someone that I loved so much and so wrongly (in a way that poisoned the well instead of making it clean, you know? like a hell-version of soulmates that was best walked away from despite how hard it was to disentangle myself from it, because it was too enormous for me to see any other way out of) that I’ve shoved those feelings about that breakup so far down that I don’t even know what shape they will take when they come out? I guess, this shape. Matroyshka dolls, aimless crying over shit that doesn’t really affect me, events of my own life spinning outside my control, no way to keep myself or my daughter on what I think of as “normal” footing, so maybe it is time to redefine normal for us and stop letting my family judge me the way I let them break us up.

Oh hell, what was THAT.

Fucking jesus. This talking about your feelings stuff is some heavy shit. Like pulling teeth. That’s all for the day, sorry. Please send vibes for this visit that my daughter’s father’s mother will continue to pretend like our friendship is totally normal and continue to pretend as though the main thing we all three of us (daughter, grandmother, me) have in common is not her son.

I didn’t know it was possible to be ghetto and full of emo bullshit at the same time, but I am nothing if not amibitious.