Forest

Haven’t seen the movie nor do I care to. I think Hollywood is really stretching for material these days. Give me a good Almodovar film any day. Even when he’s dipped his toe into Hollywood he has remained phenomenal. Not that you can compare a spare children’s book adaptation to his work (nevermind that the usually great Dave Eggars had a part in Wild Things  – WTF??) , but I’m just saying the crap H’wood spits out and the sheeple who flock to it are somewhat disheartening. But I don’t really care. Just an aside.

On the home front, I have my own wild things. A forest dwelling enigma of a man who brings a whole new concept of primal to my world.  Fundamentally flawed, the both of us. Yet alarmingly honest it seems.  I like hiding out in his cabin in the woods, ignoring the rest of  humanity to the extent that a working mother of a teenage girl can.  I find myself living in two worlds. My week of custody is the week of the girl. Staying home, making dinners, watching tv, being with her, talking about our crazy life. She has her own wildness, her own secrets that surface as she grows into a woman. My week of non-custody is the week of primal matters. Eating, sleeping, taking long hot baths, discovering the secrets in his head, the trust required to give myself over to him emotionally and physically. Still having to go to work but in a bit of a stupor from the surreal world on the other side of the job. My prior post denied love. I don’t think I need go that far. There is love. And yes, there is a “BUT” coming up here…….  I just have to keep it in perspective.  I cannot change anyone but myself, nor do I want to.  But (aha!) when the thorns start to get out of control, again-  as thorns tend to do without meaning any harm – I must step away. Disentangle. Tomorrow I will see my shrink. I predict she will counsel me to disentangle permanently but I will not. I might have to disentangle from her, actually.  If I am not working toward our agreed goal, then why waste each others’ time?  I feel I have failed her.  But I guess it’s myself I have failed at least on a few points.

At any rate, I think we all go down paths by choice. And I have chosen this path for now. If it was perfect and without some potholes, I would be suspicious.  I’ll leave it as is.  Unfolding and winding and entangling me.