Oysters and Growing Pains
Have you ever read The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath?
Actually, do you know who Sylvia Plath is?
Sylvia Plath was an extremely tortured feminist poet and novelist from the late 1800’s early 1900’s. She eventually stuck her head in an oven and ended it all.
Anyways, that’s not what the blog is about. But The Bell Jar is a story I’ve never been able to get through completely because every time I try, it makes me go into mini psychosis or something. Meltdown. Rethink my life. Buy a corvette and start dating women in their early 20’s, mid life crisis type psychological state. But I’ll sum it up for you.
Imagine that you’re sitting under a fig tree. You’re starving to death and you really, really need to eat a fig to survive. Every fig represents a life that you could’ve lived. I’ll tell you about mine.
One fig is me as a war journalist, deep in the trenches of Iraq and scribbling on a little notepad. If I hadn’t dropped out of University, that here I think my public relations degree would’ve taken me.
The other is Sally the Professional Poker Player, living in Vegas and making millions.
The other is me as a famous author, living in Paris.
The other is me owning a farm with my husband with six kids running around the front yard with our golden retrievers.
The other is an artist living in Manhattan, sipping martinis in a bar.
Now imagine that it’s your own fig tree. It spans for miles and miles, and you just stand there taking them all in, and you just can’t decide. So instead of deciding, you just watch until you die of starvation. You could’ve just picked one. That’s The Bell Jar.
That’s also life. That’s my life right now.
A few weeks ago, Jackie and I got on an airplane with our friend, Alex, to visit our other friends in Michigan. I’ve never been more north than D.C. and Alex and Jackie had never even stepped foot into an airport. So I left Ronaldo at home, left baby with the baby daddy, and caught a flight. Because my wedding is in 200 days, and because Jackie had things to work through, and because we really, really missed our friends. A little bit about Alex and our friends that we went to visit?
Alex and the twins have been our friends since we were freshmen in high school. We’d have sleepovers at Jackie’s house and we’d all pile up on her pull out couch in her living room. There was never underage sex or alcohol and early even drama- just pure vibes. Just laughing until our bellies hurt. The twins, we’ll call Cason and Carson. They moved to Michigan about a year ago for an apprentice job thing. They share a cabin together in the middle of nowhere on a creek, like two hours from where Eminem was raised and right on Lake Huron, which I was surprised to find looked just like the ocean.
Jackie and I needed it. Motherhood is so rewarding, but it was nice to have the space from our kids and spouses to just be ourselves with old friends.
I haven’t laughed as hard I did on that trip in a long time. My cheeks were sore when I got home.
I’ve decided to include some conversations that we had that you had to be there for to understand exactly how funny they were:
*Draws a penis in the sand*
“Maybe we should clear the penis away”- Jackie
*Water washes it clean*
“God took care of that one for us” - Carson
*I show Jackie a really bad picture that Carson took of us*
Me dying laughing: “You look like that one girl from- Have you seen the Witcher?”
Jackie death stares at me as she says “YENNIFER???”
There was also a really long conversation about a stick of butter that belonged to Carson that Cason had thrown away because it appeared to have hair on it. Carson then got really offended, because that stick of butter was his “corn butter” which he only used on corn. It got dug out of the trash can.
Anyways, you had to just be there.
We visited the largest Christmas store in the world, watched scary movies, and visited 8 Mile on the last day. I also tried Tim Horton’s, which, ew.
There was a theme throughout the trip that I can’t remember who started. But every time someone said anything about wanting to do something, the other would reply “The world is your oyster.” And it got me thinking about why in the world we say that. Because oysters can’t really do anything. I don’t even think they have eyes. I looked it up and apparently Shakespeare wrote it in one of his plays, and it stuck.
Sometimes the world can seem so small. We fall into routines with our little families and we only do what’s convenient or what’s expected. We imagine what our lives will be, or could be. And here I am feeling a little stuck. Not because of anything specifically, but just because there is so much that I want to do. I want to get on more planes with Jackie, and with my baby, and with my little sister. I want to write a book, to help people, to really have an impact somehow. I want a fulfilling and important life. I have to remind myself that I am just getting started.
Until next time,
Sally