It's been an unbelievable 2 months since I turned the page on the longest chapter of my life.
I spent 42 years in Illinois. Half of those years I lived in Mount Prospect, in the "Triangle" to be specific, a one square-ish mile of land that was the birthplace of the town. The land was settled by hard-working Germans along a direct train route between downtown Chicago and the Wisconsin border. I never questioned my purpose growing up in a town like that; I had the same goals as most other kids. Do well in school, attain a respectable job, marry a responsible person, and have a family of my own. Gender roles were changing in the 1970's, so one of the harder things to imagine was how I was supposed to be equal to my brothers, yet still be as dedicated to parenting as my own mother was. Throughout my teenage years I fought with the notion that I had an impossible task ahead of me.
I pushed through my adolescent years, mostly copying the friends I liked most. I blended in well enough in my 20's, making friends and trying new adventures like living on my own in the city, traveling to deserts and small towns to see what else the world had to offer. In my 30's I started "checking off" the same grown-up to-do list items that my older brother and friends had already accomplished. Marriage. Child birth. Day care. Schools. Doctor visits. Work anniversaries.
I was the first in my circle of friends to get divorced. For the first time, there was no one I could copy. This was a foreign land where I had no answers. I coped by seeking out others in my position, but no one had the same history or struggle that I had. My one comfort was living in a large city where I could sink into anonymity each day on the train. I could pretend to be just like everyone around me for a while, and let my guard down.
I gave up my anonymity when I moved back to my home town. I needed help with after school care for my daughter, and the only people I trusted were my parents. It was the path of least resistance, and I relished it. Asking for help has always been challenging for me. They didn't require me to ask for anything. In the course of those three years, I became so comfortable allowing others to choose for me, that I lost my ability to express what I wanted. During the short time I lived in parents' home, my mother and I got into a discussion about the course my life was taking. Frustrated at my inability to make a decision, she asked me "WHAT DO YOU WANT?" and I tearfully responded that I didn't know! I thought I knew but it all turned out to be wrong. I was paralyzed by fear and lack of confidence.
After a couple of years, I got back on my feet, bought a home nearby, and got the hang of being a working single mom again. I was dating again, but only on the weekends when Z was with her dad. It was the fall, and my boyfriend asked me if I could get away to attend a conference with him in Vienna. My parents had agreed to care for Z when I went away with him a couple of years earlier. But this time, when I asked for their help, my mother gave no explanation except that no, they could not do that. It broke my heart. It was obvious that they felt it was a frivolous trip, that the relationship itself was frivolous. So I turned him down.
It wasn't a complete disappointment. Deep down I knew I didn't want to leave Z a second time to go to Europe without her. But saying no was very hard for me. It carried the shame of giving in to my parents' wishes. But saying yes meant I would be succumbing to my boyfriend's wishes. Ultimately I began to realize that all of my choices culminated from my being controlled by others.
I did eventually get away on a trip. Not the Vienna trip, another one. To Italy. A real vacation, not a conference where I'd be a tag-along. That was exactly a year ago. Same week that my best friends in Mount Prospect packed up their car and moved to Colorado.
It came as a shock. They had talked and talked about moving there, for the wilderness and liberal way of life. But they just did it, got the kids in school, rented a house, boom. When I got back from Italy, my best friends were gone. I could barely get my head around it. How do you just decide one day that the comfort of family and friends and a nice home you've worked so hard for isn't good enough? I chewed on that question for months. But I got to see how happy this new life made them. New challenges, new rewards, new horizons, new everything. That's when I started to understand. That's when I replayed my mother asking me that question in my brain, years later, and this time, I knew the answer.
No comments:
Post a Comment