the whole of the moon
march 31st, 2000

there isn't anything missing out of my life. i repeat this phrase, over 
and over to myself, trying to make myself believe it, trying to make any 
of it real or tangible in my head, and it's true, i do have a very full 
life. i have magnificent friends, a wonderful daughter, silly adventures 
and amazing talents and revelations. and still, there's this melancholy 
beneath the surface, that oozing sadness that i couldn't really put my 
finger on. that weird depression that just comes and grabs a hold of me at 
certain times, that intense longing for something, that missing what has 
past.

at first i thought it was because my life had changed so drastically, that 
i missed being "free" or "wild" or "untamed", that i felt as if i had lost 
too much of myself in motherhood, but it really isn't that at all. in 
truth, motherhood has always been an intense part of my personality - i 
basically felt as if i were a co-parent of my little brother, because i 
wanted to be, because i loved children, and because the younger ones 
always make the best playmates (and i am happy to announce i was right 
about that.) i may be a bit more put together than before, not as flaky, 
or as scattered, but i like it that way. in fact, for the first time for 
as long as i can really remember, i am totally happy with myself. i'm 
proud of my appearance, my talents, my strength, and even my intelligence. 
i feel as if i'm doing something really incredible now, and i amaze myself 
every day that i'm really capable of doing it. not just doing it - doing 
it well. it's confidence, and it's building. i think in many ways my 
recent absorption in the cyberverse has been a confidence builder for me. 
i write and ramble, and then i get a couple of really wonderful reviews, 
and then totally by accident i happen across some members of diaryland who 
had listed me as a favourite diarist. me? worthy of such appraisal? just, 
wow. and it makes me feel good, as if something i'm saying actually 
matters, as if people can actually take away something from my words. it 
feels good...it makes me smile. and it's helping me build a stronger 
foundation, something to twist my roots around, where i can truly believe 
myself to be an amazing and special person, and worthy of any joy that may 
come into my life.

freedom? i lie to myself about that one all the time. i've never been 
free, not once in my entire life. i'm not sure anyone really is, but i 
never really minded. i was caught up in the adventure of everyday life, 
and my free-spirited demeanor was always overshadowed by the small country 
girl who just wants to stay in her mountains. i spent the first eighteen 
years of my life weaving dreams in my room, and i wouldn't have had it any 
other way. those eighteen years were incredible. they were magical. they 
were life, pure and exciting in its infinite boredom, so much so that i 
never even noticed. there was drama occasionally, and demons to chase, but 
nothing that we could not ever fix.

so what *am* i missing? i suppose the answer is obvious. and it's always 
the obvious answers i have the hardest time discovering.

i watched benny and joon this morning, and i cried. i can't remember 
*ever* crying at that movie. it has always been an extremely uplifting 
movie for me, mostly because it embodies precisely what i want in a 
relationship. (untamed heart is similar, but benny and joon has the happy 
ending.) it is one of the most romantic movies of all time, in my opinion. 
which is precisely why i found myself crying at it.

so that's it. that's what missing. that's the true reason why i'm lonely, 
why i feel displaced so often, why there is this deep longing inside of me 
like a thirst. that's why i entertain myself with memories and sappy 
nostalgia, trying to recapture what i no longer have. like in the italian 
film cinema paradiso, all of the romantic intimacies have been cut from 
the film, and i'm filling the void by chasing old ghosts and trying to 
open those doors onto the paths which were never taken. they open on to 
nothingness, and i can no longer walk on air.

i don't know why i feel i need someone in my life in order to be complete, 
whole, satisfied and happy. why it is i feel as if there is something 
always missing when that person isn't there. it's always been this way for 
me. i started "searching for my soulmate" when i was nine years old. i'd 
concoct fantasies when none were present. i siphoned my adorations onto my 
best friend and brought our relationship into an entirely different light, 
when i could find no boy to be attentive to. and then, when i entered the 
realm of high school and realized that i could be attractive and desirable 
to others and *gasp* find them attractive and desirable back, i severed 
things between us. perhaps i am being harsh on myself - sometimes i am 
very cruel to myself when i try to be objective. but i can't help but 
wonder if that were truly the subconscious motivations behind that entire 
section of my life.

this is the first time in my life since i was seventh grade that i've been 
single, and the symptoms and silliness and loneliness i carried then are 
identical to those i carry now. for the longest time, i didn't feel i was 
over nathaniel enough to try to start anything else with anyone. and now, 
while i am not entirely sure i'm completely healed from the situation, i 
am definitely over him, and i find myself wondering "what's holding me 
back?" (granted, it's not as if oak ridge is particularly booming with 
moody, yet silly, creative, attractive, dark-haired artistic men, nor am i 
particularly putting myself in optimal situations to meet any that might 
possibly exist.) there's a part of me that continues to tell myself that 
this feeling is wrong, that i should not have this embedded need to have a 
romantic interest in my life in order to achieve the highest pinnacle of 
happiness, that i should learn to be perfectly satisfied and content with 
my own company. but if that is the case, if it is unhealthy to feel 
incomplete and miss aligned when you are without that romantic interest, 
then why is it everyone else feels the same way? furthermore, i've felt 
this way for as long as i can possibly remember. it is very much a part of 
my personality, the way i was born, who i am. my first boyfriend was when 
i was in kindergarten, and he stayed my boyfriend for two entire years, 
and i wanted to marry him. the age of five, and already wrapped up in 
someone. if love has always been such a tremendous theme in my life, is it 
right for me to deny myself it?

i don't know. i'd like to say that my recent excursions and 
experimentations with the men of my past has led me to reaffirm my belief 
that relationships can never be picked up once they are put down, but 
amber and adam's relationship shoots a big fat hole through that theory. i 
do know, however, that these ghosts have been a distraction, a life full 
of fantasy since there is not such comparable present in my life right 
now. and i want it. i know i don't *need* it, and i suppose that's where 
i've made progress from before. i can survive perfectly well, and with a 
relative amount of happiness and bliss, without it. but, man...it would be 
really neat if i could have it again. i'd like to be stupid in love. this 
time with someone who would be stupid in love with me back.

well. knowing is half the battle, i guess.