A Woman of Substance

Dear Kate,

A Fertile Blur of Supple Strength? A Sleek Cat? I don't even know what that means. I do have oddly cat-like reflexes.

As for the proclamation that I am God (don't worry, I don't really think I'm God/Jesus/Buddha or any other higher being. And I'm certainly no saint), I'm relating more to the human side of Jesus right now.

I know what you're thinking. "Did Molly just admit to being human? Did hell freeze over? Is therapy working?"

Yes, I am human. Yes, I have feelings. Yes, its terribly hard for me to talk about them. Why? Here's why. I'm a runner. You know this. It's a family joke. I'm the runner of the family. "All my life I've left my troubles by the door cause leaving is all I've ever known before." I have to be able to pick up those troubles and walk out the door. I don't get attached, I don't share, because someday I will get the urge to run and its harder to run when you've formed bonds.

"But, Molly," you might ask "what about the dream of yours to have a family, a home? Those require very strong bonds."

I know. In addition to being a runner, I am a jumbled mess of contradictions inside. That's something I'm working on. Now, before anyone jumps down my throat, just because things are contradictory in my mind, doesn't mean I'm not happy. There are more things in my life that bring happiness than there are things that bring sadness. The pros outnumber the cons.

That's not to say I don't have sad days, or days when I'm scared, or days when I'm lonely. But if some one were to ask me how I felt in my life, I could honestly and confidently say that I am happy.

Oh, and yes, I get hurt. But I also don't believe in sitting around and moping. I've always advised against that and I take my own advice (atleast on that count). So, if one day you see me and I tell you it feels like five cows have just trampled across my torso and the next day you hear me whistling the Battle Hymn of the Republic, its not because I'm covering up the hurt. I've simply addressed the pain, dealt with it, and moved on. Sure, some residual hurt can occasionally cause some passive aggressive, snarky comment, but that's to be expected. Its in my nature to make snarky comments and if I see the opportunity, I take it.

But, I've digressed. Emotions. Expressing them and why I can't. Now, I am in no way blaming you, Kate, but do you recall hiding in the upstairs bathroom when we were little? I do. I remember one particular time where we locked the door, pulled all the drawers out in front of it, and sat down on the edge of the tub. I began to cry and you turned to me and said, "Don't cry. He's not worth it." Now, I know we were somewhere around 10 and you weren't purposefully trying to diminish my emotions, but that has become a sort of mantra of mine. "Don't cry. [Its] not worth it." I'm not saying its a very good mantra, but there you have it.

There's one more thing. I don't trust people not to use my emotions against me.

Post Script-
I LOVE Neko Case. She is a wonderful lyricist with a tough, sweet voice that's like ripping silk. I fell in love with her in high school when I randomly bought Furnace Room Lullaby. The woman has a way of knowing me with her music.

Tenderly, tenderly please take my breath from me
Into the fountains and up from the grave
Tearfully, joyfully burn what is left of me
I don't want these burdens that handsomely weigh

You be the guest
And I'll let you stay
Leave me the check
I'll pay with the rest of my life
Twist the knife

Unfortunately there is no video for that song, but this is one of my favorites of hers and this is a lovely version.

-Molly