What to Amputate?

What to Amputate?   11/18/10   (Drawing by E Scott 11/05)

I went to see that movie, 127 Hours, the other night. About the guy, Aaron, stuck in a canyon in Bryce or Zion in Utah.  He hadn’t told anybody where he was going and he fell and a boulder pinned his hand in this secluded narrow canyon. Finally, the only way to live was to amputate his own arm. And then hike and climb down a cliff and ask for help.

It was the only way he was going to live.

When the rock first got stuck, he was yelling and screaming and trying to push the wedged boulder off his pinned hand. The hubris of thinking he could move it was impressive.

But we all feel that. I have. I have had the hubris that I will be able to muscle my way out of a tricky situation because I am smart and strong and charming.

No. Not so much.

I went to the is movie—alone—because I felt a kinship with this situation. I feel like I have blithely entered into single parenthood and now I really need help( and I do get plenty). And now I am stuck, alone in a canyon and I need to figure out what to amputate so I won’t die alone in this secluded canyon.

What do I need to sever so I can get back into the world of other people? I don’t quite know.

It might be the hope that I will find a wonderful mate and I will finally get help with the dishes. And someone who will love me even if I am messy and late. Several times in a row.

That’s a good possibility.

And just like the guy,Aaron who had to first snap the two forearm bones and then saw away at the flesh with a very, very dull blade, to let go of the possibility of a life partner will be excruciatingly painful. But. I will live.

Maybe I need to amputate the idea that I will be a famous writer novelist, making millions every year and thumbing my nose at everyone who says behind my back that I’ll never make it as a writer.

Maybe I need to cut away the dream that it will get easier to deal with a co-parent whom I don’t live with and who has a very separate life than mine.

That’s a good one too.

Maybe I need to forcefully separate from the dream that I will have a group of friends that will take the place of a life partner. It will hurt, but I might have to let go of that delusion.

When I can’t figure something out, I talk too much and daydream too much. Like right here and now on this blog. 
I have this aching worry that it is just unbearable to be around me too long. And soon, all my new friends and some old ones will just grow tired of all the unending stories, punctuated with some humor(I think I get the humor as a sort of party favor for making it to 45)and just want to be with other people who are not so high maintenance.

To ward off these cool people running away, I am constantly offering to help, to babysit when K has his weekends with his father. I offer playdates and rides everywhere. Partly because it’s fun to spend time with K and his friends  but truth to tell, I need to break up the QT one on one time. News flash: it's hard to do the single parenting thing for long stretches of time. You need breaks. I am forever worried that I haven’t done enough for my friends.

I have been a bit obsessed driving around and checking out the kindergartens. It’s a lottery in our city and I want to find the right fit for K and for me. Today, I totally lost track of time because I am friends with the principal of this super hip and down to earth school(my first choice) and he was giving me the rare treat of visiting all the classrooms. And then suddenly, I looked at my watch and I was sooo late. And I was supposed to bring K and my new friend’s daughter to soccer. And she ended up having to take them. The horror! The horror! Letting down a cool, new friend.She is NEVER going to invite me over before the dance. Shit.

I was mortified to the point of tears.

I didn’t want to screw up my new friendship! I am alone at home and I can’t be alienating these lovely, normal adult people who help me feel connected to the world.

But then all my embarrassment and my typical overemotion and multifarious apologies dumped out of my mouth.Shit again. The cat is out of the bag.Now she and the other mom's know for certain that I'm not only a freak, I'm a needy freak.Great. I'm just decimated my social life.

My mortifying reaction was giving away a very important secret.

( I can tell you because-well, for one, there is not such a very huge readership and two because we might possibly never meet)

The secret is this: I love these people. I haven’t known these moms and dads from my son’s preschool, but I truly, truly love them. (not lusty sex love, no. The deep, platonic love that we all need) I love them. And (part II of my secret) I am so grateful that they spend time with me, that I would do anything for them. I’m using this collective of people( the lovely ones, you know? absolutely no icky people) as my surrogate partner.

And, really, even I know as I write this, that that is a bit too much. It’s a tad icky. It’s too big a responsibility for a group of acquaintances.( I think I’m also grateful to this new crowd because all my old friends are a bit maxed out and exhausted from Darcy time and all my musings.)

Therefore, I know this secret must be buried. It must be buried in favors done over time and small presents of baked goods. No one can know how much I love and appreciate them. I can’t overwhelm them. I can’t scare the beautiful creatures I see before me. They are like rare butterflies with curative powers for us single parents.

Because, I know this about me, if I open the floodgates and actually show the extent of my feelings, it’s not pretty. It’s really too much. No one knows what to do.

It’s why I have only ever tried cocaine once. When I did, in college, I couldn’t stop hugging and adoring people. And someone could have been hurt. By the fervor of my affection. It’s true. I remember I couldn’t let go of my friend’s hand until he said: “Actually, Darc, you are hurting me.” And I looked down and his fingers were white because I was squeezing so hard.

Soooo…no more amphetamines for this girl.

Because if I declare my undying love to my new parent friends, they will all wince and try to be polite. But slowly there will be less play-date invitations. And then, the death blow: no more carpooling. And my life will be over. K will go on, live a rich and fulfilling life and I will be featured on “Horders.”

And all that makes me lonely. It’s funny how loneliness sneaks up on you. Like a nerdy kid in class who taps you on the shoulder at a party and doesn’t have much to say but who stays right next to you and doesn’t go away. Loneliness is so embarrassing and unrelenting. It’s like sweat stains in a party dress or getting your period in white pants(happened in 7th grade). When I’m lonely I talk too much and daydream—looking into the future when I am not lonely.

You can’t amputate loneliness. I don’t think.

Every now and then, (not all the time, most of the time I actually really love being a single parent,) I am sad that I have to make these landmark decisions alone.

Like where K is going to kindergarten. And I talk to any and every adult I know because K,at 4 years-old while still quite advanced, is still a bit young to help with a pedagogical pro/con list for schools. And, K’s dad-not to diss him in anyway, he’s very involved and loves K very much- he is not that interested and he trusts me with this process.

So I look at all the couples at these school tours.They are checking in comparing this school to the last one, showing each other cool art in the hallways, some are even holding hands(so cute, I want to vomit in my favorite purse.) And today, right now, I wish so much I had someone to turn to and marvel at the installations of ocean life or the biographies or the first grade self-portraits, or the very cool collage of the city block around the school. I want that too.

So, actually, maybe it’s not that I have to amputate a spiritual limb to survive.

Maybe I simply have to be at peace with the fact that I am in the canyon alone.

I am alone. And it’s not because I didn’t tell anyone where I was going. It’s not out of spite or stupidity that I am in the beautiful and forceful landscape of parenting by myself. I am just here by myself.

So I can scream and yell and talk too much and hand out Irish scones forever and a day.

But

Right at this moment

Nothing will change the fact that I am a single parent.

And yet, the best news is that I am a parent. Not just any parent, I’m K’s mom. It's a breath-taking landscape.

(forgive me another secret- as soppy and maudlin as it is to admit, I say to you that being K’s mom is the greatest joy of my life. With or without company on the kindergarten tours. I get to wake up everyday and play with and watch my beautiful son grow and thrive.)

And nothing but nothing can change that.