Empty Nest & Nostalgia

What is this sweet longing, this painful longing, a wishing for things from the past, people from the past? NOSTALGIA! And there is reason that the word ends with ALGIA - it is somewhat painful. Maybe the most painful aspect of it, is that when one is as realistic as possible, not only is it impossible to ever "go back", but many times what we are longing for was never quite what we remember, in fact is much more complicated and shadowy than what we remember. For me nostalgia is more a longing for a painful past.

And since all the longing in the world is not going to manifest the past in this physical plain, I do find that indulging in longing for my ideal past, my mythical past, is just as honorable a form of neuralgia as any other. However, sometimes to pull myself out of that longing I have to replay a cameo of the actual past, and like a sharp slap on the face, it grabs my attention and diverts my thoughts elsewhere. Then, unless I fall into the abyss of "Pissed about the Past", I can move on to an awareness of say, the present!

An example: I miss my mother and think about all of her wonderfulness and canonize her among the remarkable women in my life, and am almost to the point of cries of anguish because I miss her so much. Then I must remember her at age 72, lying on her couch, totally jaundiced from her starring role as an alcoholic. She was remarkable in that on her bad days she got more accomplished than I do on my good days. I don't drink much, but I am supremely lazy.

One of my favorite ploys to have an authentic experience of the past, is to troll for images from the years of my life. I think the Betsey McCall from 1955 is a lovely dose of my birth year I have also included a link to the page where someone has published pages of Betsey's. I remember this feature of McCall's. My family did not subscribe to this magazine, but a neighbor did and I could not wait to find the latest Betsey page. However, I hated to cut, I only liked to look, so I am not sure I was robbed of a passion when it comes to paper dolls. Plus paper dolls would just not keep their clothes on. Remember?

The Empty Nest experience is at least 1/2 nostalgia for me. Today I should go into my fledgling's room and go through more of her "stuff" - which will bring back more memories and so on. But will also get me closer to having a new room to add to my territory of my house. Wish me luck!
Keep happy thoughts and have a very lucky day

Too Much

And All. Maybe not ALL, but too much. These are the side trips of my life at the moment - little jaunts that make it challenging to "go with the flow"; things that must be either denied or dealt with on a daily basis. Husband lost job in May - in this economy - in a depressed California County. Said depressed California County is covered in smoke and has been since the beginning of June. Some days the air rates hazardous. Hazardous air that can't be exercised in. I have already expressed how it feels to have the baby girl out of the nest, however, I haven't conveyed that there is still so much of her "stuff" in the house and in particular her bedroom. There is layer upon layer in her room with nary a 4 inch square of carpet cleared. It is like a land mine. She told me not to worry about it, just put it in her room, as if that room was a permanent piece of real estate that would be enshrined in her memory forever. Hello? May I be excited about her leaving so that I can invade her room, conquer it and call it my new sewing/quilting room and make a nice nest for guests. Ummm...hmmm., who pays the mortgage, - oh hell, yes, that would be me and I can be referred to in the near future, I hope, as Atila the Mum.

I feel one of the great disservices that I did for my child was to allow way too much stuff, things, plastic, souvenirs, silly collections, etc., to come into our house and in particular into her life. For instance - Beanie Babies. Need I say more? Of course there was a great rush to invest in the BBs in order to procure a college fund investment plan via BB's value. Okay - do you know of anyone who actually made money collecting BB's? I don't. I have a rich, Republican sister who purchased lovely lawyer glass front covered book shelves in order to display her Beanie Babies. Bless China's little heart! And what about all of the toys that go with happy meals? Or should I say come with Happy Meals? Toys that come and stay and never leave without major effort. So the empty nest is full of the dreggs of a childhood in America. Too Much!

So Empty...

I had no idea that having my one and only child leave home could feel anything like this. I am not even a very good mother. I was never one to have prepared, healthy meals for my child on a routine basis. In fact a favorite line when she would say she was hungry was "Didn't I feed you just yesterday?". This has been like an amputation because I keep thinking that my "little moi" is still right here but I know she is not. I can't move around in my world anymore without feeling crippled.

Since she has left home I have had the splendid remembrances that must be similar to the crying, ancient person's memory telling them they are still Daddy's little girl. Memories so real they have snapped into my present like some weird elastic inchworm whose back legs have just hit up against the front legs, bringing with them what was. I remember lying on my bed in Hawaii and feeling her forming body in my belly and it was real. REAL. So strange to feel. Little bumps and protrusions moving underhand. My experience of this memory is as if it was yesterday afternoon.

I remember bringing her home from the hospital and wondering. Not even knowing what to wonder, but wondering nonetheless - a wandering wondering. Just a few days after we started our life together - her body outside of mine, I kept having the feeling of wanting to fling the bundle away. The bundle of this thing that must be schlepped! I can still feel how wrong and foreign it seemed that I had to carry this bundle around always. And this feeling in direct conflict with my commitment to wearing her in a baby sling as much as possible and providing nurturing contact.

It was an experience like many rights of passage for a female in my world. Dangling, bouncing, breasts that arise from wonderful, flat, secure flesh - feel so odd loosed upon our bodies and yet feel wrong snugged up in undergarments. A flow of menses let loose to stain our surroundings, to stain our clothing and leave a delta of bloody debris in our sacred space and yet to wear that peculiar object, the sanitary napkin, held in place by the odd belt with tortuous hardware - that also felt so wrong. My body becoming two bodies with such a strong, physical connection now cleaved by the departure of my girl. I know that it is the right thing to happen; it just feels so wrong.

Perhaps this is just my experience in this miraculous physical world. I have always felt as if it was all just a little to strange to trust completely and feel at one with. All of the extras. All of the extras that I have lined my nest(s) with. And now I have no fledgling in my nest and I am Raven of the Empty Nest. This is the only way I know to name the role at this time. How could I have missed out on having an inkling of what this would be like. I am so ill prepared. I look at other people whose children have flown and wonder how they can seem so happy and carefree. Childbirth was understandable and so reassuring to have that role of Mother thrust upon me with the bundle. But this me, this Raven of the Empty Nest - I don't know who she is...YET.