deus ex machina, no more (May 28, 2008)
When I was 13, I had my first dream about a boy I liked. In that dream, the boy fell off of his bike and broke his leg. He was in the middle of the street about to be hit my an oncoming car. With seconds to spare, I put his arm over my shoulders and carried him to safety. Then I somehow managed to seat him on the bike with his injured leg supported by the frame and wheeled him to a nearby hospital. My first dream about an 8th grade crush had nothing to do with a first kiss or even holding hands... it involved me saving this boy's life.
Such has been the course of my life, with one person to help after another. I never thought I suffered from a Messiah complex and I never dreamed of becoming a doctor and literally saving peoples' lives... but looking back, maybe I did have some sort of personality affliction that drove me to strive to always be the girl who had all the answers. I have been a deus ex machina, always ready to find the words to institute the unobtainable and plant the seed of belief in others of life being perfectible. Friends have told me that I've spoken the exact words that they needed to hear during times of uncertainty. Typically, I casually brushed off such comments by stating that I was merely a friend doing my job. Recently, as I've had a lot of time alone during the week to reflect, I've started to connect the dots between my need to be a problem solver and my need to hold on to my severe independence.
By putting others' problems at the forefront of my life, I skillfully hid the fact that it was my personal defense mechanism against needing anyone to help me. Raising myself as a child and struggling to do everything all on my own for nearly 30 years created a wall that was so tall, I refused to believe that there was a view over it, let alone on the other side. In the past couple of weeks I've correlated this with my actions in many of my past relationships... and I know that I wasn't always right, I wasn't always the one with something to teach. I simply kept enough distance to remain capable of being alone. Granted in the course of things, I am confident that I made a difference and I may have "saved" a few making them better for the next girl in line... so I have no regrets. It's just lately that I'm facing my fear... my terror of depending on someone else, of needing them as much as they need me, of needing to be saved.
As I've started to pack my books, memorabilia and clothes... I've simultaneously been cataloging all of my furniture, decorations and other material possessions that will be sold to the highest bidder. Preparing to let these things go has been unexpectedly devastating. All these things that I've latched onto... all of this stuff that is mine because I obtained it through my own hard work... all these things just have to go. Not only do these things not fit into Jason's house, but they represent my life as a solo individual. The symbolism of each cat fur covered item in my tiny apartment has been overwhelming at times... but as I am surrounded by these things each night, I've slowly begun to detach myself from them. I know they are just things. What I am really letting go of is my need to be on my own.
When I first started dating Jason, I remember thinking about how great it was going to be for me having a boyfriend who lived just far enough away to where I'd get plenty of space. Hanging out on the weekends while still being able to drink wine and have girl friend time during the week was a good fit for me at first. Months later, I've found that the friends are few and far between and my moods and health have been up and down. Just a few weeks ago when I saw the first pictures of the boy that's changing my life, I no longer felt safe in my self-sufficiency. I came to the realization that I needed help, that I couldn't do this all on my own and that I had to let go of the reigns. Since that moment, I've been trying to be brave in the face of fear... not fear of failure or disaster... simply fear of unexplored territory. For the first time, I am aware that I haven't been as open as I've projected myself to be. I also have concluded that little Jackson Dean isn't going to be the only one changing my life... Jason is altering my existence as well. Last week when I was sick, I cried over not having anyone to bring me a tissue or make me soup... and for the first time in my entire existence, I hated having to be self-reliant. I missed him more then ever and I realized that I truly needed him. All I have to do now is allow him to support me, share my burdens... and eventually save me from my self imposed emancipation.
I'm sure I'll still miss parts of my apartment just for what they were... like that one floorboard in my bedroom that always sunk down a little when I stepped on it. These things have been home to me for the past year and I am proud that I had my little (extremely tiny) slice of city life. However, I recognize the challenges that lie ahead and it won't be long before they transform this lone girl into something much more... a part of a brand new, happy family.
Such has been the course of my life, with one person to help after another. I never thought I suffered from a Messiah complex and I never dreamed of becoming a doctor and literally saving peoples' lives... but looking back, maybe I did have some sort of personality affliction that drove me to strive to always be the girl who had all the answers. I have been a deus ex machina, always ready to find the words to institute the unobtainable and plant the seed of belief in others of life being perfectible. Friends have told me that I've spoken the exact words that they needed to hear during times of uncertainty. Typically, I casually brushed off such comments by stating that I was merely a friend doing my job. Recently, as I've had a lot of time alone during the week to reflect, I've started to connect the dots between my need to be a problem solver and my need to hold on to my severe independence.
By putting others' problems at the forefront of my life, I skillfully hid the fact that it was my personal defense mechanism against needing anyone to help me. Raising myself as a child and struggling to do everything all on my own for nearly 30 years created a wall that was so tall, I refused to believe that there was a view over it, let alone on the other side. In the past couple of weeks I've correlated this with my actions in many of my past relationships... and I know that I wasn't always right, I wasn't always the one with something to teach. I simply kept enough distance to remain capable of being alone. Granted in the course of things, I am confident that I made a difference and I may have "saved" a few making them better for the next girl in line... so I have no regrets. It's just lately that I'm facing my fear... my terror of depending on someone else, of needing them as much as they need me, of needing to be saved.
As I've started to pack my books, memorabilia and clothes... I've simultaneously been cataloging all of my furniture, decorations and other material possessions that will be sold to the highest bidder. Preparing to let these things go has been unexpectedly devastating. All these things that I've latched onto... all of this stuff that is mine because I obtained it through my own hard work... all these things just have to go. Not only do these things not fit into Jason's house, but they represent my life as a solo individual. The symbolism of each cat fur covered item in my tiny apartment has been overwhelming at times... but as I am surrounded by these things each night, I've slowly begun to detach myself from them. I know they are just things. What I am really letting go of is my need to be on my own.
When I first started dating Jason, I remember thinking about how great it was going to be for me having a boyfriend who lived just far enough away to where I'd get plenty of space. Hanging out on the weekends while still being able to drink wine and have girl friend time during the week was a good fit for me at first. Months later, I've found that the friends are few and far between and my moods and health have been up and down. Just a few weeks ago when I saw the first pictures of the boy that's changing my life, I no longer felt safe in my self-sufficiency. I came to the realization that I needed help, that I couldn't do this all on my own and that I had to let go of the reigns. Since that moment, I've been trying to be brave in the face of fear... not fear of failure or disaster... simply fear of unexplored territory. For the first time, I am aware that I haven't been as open as I've projected myself to be. I also have concluded that little Jackson Dean isn't going to be the only one changing my life... Jason is altering my existence as well. Last week when I was sick, I cried over not having anyone to bring me a tissue or make me soup... and for the first time in my entire existence, I hated having to be self-reliant. I missed him more then ever and I realized that I truly needed him. All I have to do now is allow him to support me, share my burdens... and eventually save me from my self imposed emancipation.
I'm sure I'll still miss parts of my apartment just for what they were... like that one floorboard in my bedroom that always sunk down a little when I stepped on it. These things have been home to me for the past year and I am proud that I had my little (extremely tiny) slice of city life. However, I recognize the challenges that lie ahead and it won't be long before they transform this lone girl into something much more... a part of a brand new, happy family.
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