Like Being Shot Off in a Rocket to the Moon

Yesterday, I told a friend that I felt like I was about to be shot off in a rocket to the moon.  I had just finished my yoga practice trying to ground myself, but at this point in time, that might be impossible.  I alternate between wanting to cry really hard, laugh and be light, have very serious conversations with people I like about life, and punching a wall.  It feels very discombobulated.  

I've often wondered when I'd feel truly grown up.  Lately, I feel more of that girl I was at 15, who I did like a whole lot.  I feel her wanting to come out and be the adult that she so longed to be all those years ago.  I'm doing my best to get to know her again, but I suppose part of being an adult is doing that kind of thing on limited time.  Responsibilities have to be considered and the love I have for the lives I've created will forever influence my next movements.

When you've been shot off in a rocket to the moon, there's falling involved.  For the first time, I'm reading the novel written by Gurney Norman - Divine Right's Trip.  He's a Kentucky author and former poet laureate whom I've taken some writing workshops with.  Back when I taught public school, I thoroughly enjoyed sharing his story "Fat Monroe" from his collection Kinfolks with my seventh graders.  (Dang, I'm old enough to have taught school and that be 10 years ago!  My students are now getting married and having their own babies.)  There's a segment I read a few days ago that made my heart ache tremendously.

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from Falling: When D.R. felt particularly tired, and dirty, and locked up in his mind, it was like he was the one who was falling, with Estelle being dragged along behind.  That wasn’t accurate of course.  That was just stuff in D.R.’s head, a product of the same weary fever that produced the sense of falling in the first place.  There was a way in which Estelle had already fallen further than D.R. had, already knew stuff that he had yet to learn.  In a way, she was coming up as he went down, and reaching out a hand to save him from what she already knew.  The thing that overwhelmed D.R. when he thought about it that way was how utterly generous that was of her, and how dangerous for her.

I identify with both characters here, but I do feel like I'm doing my best to climb out of the hole.  It is strange that I so want company in the climbing.  I'm used to dealing with personal conflicts almost completely on my own.  This time, I don't want to.  

I also wouldn't have thought that at nearly 40 years old, I'd be blogging about personal growth.  I know one day I'll get back to posting more about my interests and my daughters.  I'm simply thankful this point in my life is happening in summer as I am nearly totally consumed by experiencing it.  I can feel all this while my girls play outside at dusk.  I can take long walks with my Gwen on my back and the dog on the leash.  I can have conversations without worrying about the time even though I will always worry that my desire to have people I appreciate along for this ride will be a bother to them.  Historically, that has been true.  I'm trying to let go and know that those who want to be with me, will be there for me.  I will return the favor.  I truly always do.

I'm trying to accept the fact that most of what I have wanted from life is to be wanted by another person so hard that it hurts.  I know I'm needed by my daughters and always will be.  I'm so grateful for that relationship.  I know I'm wanted by my family and the family I have created.  I know where the desire for this different kind of being wanted comes from, and I'm coming to terms with the fact that it is a need.  It provides strength and the will in me to push forward with my endeavors.  

My very first boyfriend was an experience kind of like that.  We were best friends.  We were just very young and naive of how to appreciate a connection like that.  So, we ended up making each other feel terrible and parted ways.  Yet, I've always been thankful for knowing what that feels like and will hold it in a little box in my heart forever.

I keep trying to ground this rocket because I don't want to end up alone on the moon.  I do yoga.  I write.  I say sappy things to friends who I'm convinced I aggravate like the plague.  Despite all this effort to stay on my own two feet, it only takes minutes for the fires to burn again.  I get the jittery feeling around my heart, the butterflies in my stomach, and the ache to cry and laugh while someone holds me and I actually do take off to the moon - alone or otherwise.