Beyond Dragons

Just as Game of Thrones left me cold at the end of season two with an overkill of violence and sexism (leaving viewers like me without a character we could believe in or a narrative arc that wasn’t an emotional sinkhole), I find myself in a no-woman’s land on many levels.  This is fairly obvious, because I am comparing my expectations as a viewer of a wildly popular fantasy television series with my expectations for my life, a cause for pause if not concern. Still, like in the Caucasian Chalk Circle, you have to know when to stop pulling, and then there is the moment before something happens. . .

In my personal life, I have learned that mentally ill people set in motion a ripple-effect of hurt and devastation that swallows the next generation and most everyone that individual comes into contact with. What I once mistook for spontaneity is a willy-nilly, consumptive path driven by fear, anxiety and jealousy. On the surface, high-functioning, these folks look normal. Granted, sometimes, briefly, the mentally ill person steps back and sees the devastation she causes, knows she is  not connecting to the world the way others do. But more often than not, denial rather than honesty stares her back in the mirror. People with borderline personality disorders and narcissism believe that if they aren’t the center of attention, someone has stolen their portion of love. If they are of a vindictive nature, they will try to make you pay for their feelings of inadequacy. They will hate you. It is a very sad state of affairs, and you can’t make a family of it. It’s like trying to knead a dough that is so dry it just crumbles. It’s hard not to be angry, because we all deserved a safe home. It’s not going to happen now. Not that way.

In my so-called political life, I find myself still fighting for alimony reform in a sexist state where the well-meaning legislators are old patriarchs who believe at heart that women should stay home. And the disingenuous legislators block new legislation just to see what they can get in return for their cooperation, no principles in play, just trading baseball cards but with people’s lives. May the level-headed senators and representative prevail. Even if I don’t have at stake in this fight quite what I used to, I have seen so many lives destroyed by permanent alimony that I want to see this thing done.

I understand Daenerys’s dragons came back last night–I haven’t watched; I might. As for me, unless there is another frontal assault, a law suit, a public defamation of character (events we have already lived through), I’m seeking another route. That said, mounting a dragon to fly to another land has its appeal. Fighting injustice takes all of your energy; fighting mental illness is a hundred years war. Better to fight just long enough to extricate yourself, then leave them to their madness. And even then, I don’t wish her ill. The agnostic-paramour, who was never either, is on to other things. It is time to channel the creativity where it belongs.

The last year has been one of trying to understand why love didn’t triumph, why doing the right thing hasn’t led to understanding and healing, why it had to be so hard. It’s not as whiny as it sounds; in fact, it’s not complaining at all. There was some grieving for what could have been, but now there’s a space, a pause at the top of the in-breath, the white of the page between poetry stanzas, the deafening sound of silence when you haven’t heard it for a while. All of this is healing, and it’s gathering power to put in other places. Some people might be hard-wired not to feel and not to love, really love, but life is too short for me and those I love and want to protect to be caught in a cycle of that. At some point, you come out on the other side and wonder what’s next.






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