knawing at the she inside

September 02, 2008 Candace Morris 6 Comments

deep inside the breast-bone of woman-kind, there is something brewing, brimming, bubbling over with a cocktail of emotions that tastes something like stomach bile and sweet honey.


it's a tasty little mixture of :
disorientation
restlessness
lethargy
betrayal
hyper-sensitivity
jealousy
insecurity
despondency
irascibility (thanks kjk)
anxiety
melancholy
selfishness
incessant prattle
blindness
anger
entitlement
expectations
disappointments
and peaches.

each her own special variation and portion of this mixture.

the stewing together of the ingredients makes her who she is, and often her only antidote is either gulping down the medicine of each other...or dragging her wounded body back to the trenches to tend her own wounds alone.

sometimes it's hard, sometimes it's easy, sometimes it makes her drunk as hell.

but here's to she...her...madame, mz, senorita, mrs, 여성, chicita, miss, femme, frau.

she needs permission to need. she needs permission to be distant. she needs permission to see relationships with the perspective of a life that has lived many years and will live another many years (she hopes), a perspective that calms her with its wisdom...

that relationships both good and hard will come and go as destiny wills...

oh the female soul - how you plague. tempt. sooth.

for kjk:
"Light flows our war of mocking words, and yet,
Behold, with tears mine eyes are wet!
I feel a nameless sadness o'er me roll.
Yes, yes, we know that we can jest,
We know, we know that we can smile!
But there's a something in this breast,
To which thy light words bring no rest,
And thy gay smiles no anodyne.

Give me thy hand, and hush awhile,
And turn those limpid eyes on mine,
And let me read there, love! thy inmost soul.

Alas! is even love too weak
To unlock the heart, and let it speak?
Are even lovers powerless to reveal
To one another what indeed they feel?
I knew the mass of men conceal'd
Their thoughts, for fear that if reveal'd
They would by other men be met
With blank indifference, or with blame reproved;
I knew they lived and moved
Trick'd in disguises, alien to the rest
Of men, and alien to themselves--and yet
The same heart beats in every human breast!

But we, my love!--doth a like spell benumb
Our hearts, our voices?--must we too be dumb?
Ah! well for us, if even we,

Even for a moment, can get free
Our heart, and have our lips unchain'd;
For that which seals them hath been deep-ordain'd!"

excerpt from The Buried Life by Matthew Arnold. (some of this was read at my wedding).

in the words of kjk again, "being a human female feels quite...visceral some days, does it not? and other days so light and dreamy..." we cannot change that we will always be female. time to accept all curves.

~crm

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