middles

When writing about oneself, does oneself recognize the reflection? When talking about others, does one display the truth about themselves?

While reading "Mermaid Chair" by Sue Monk Kidd earlier today on the subway I was struck by a few lines. "...I became anxious, filled with that strange turbulence that rises when you begin to wash up on the island of your own little self and you don't see how you could ever sustain yourself there."

Talking to a friend of mine the other day, who is moving out of her father's house for the first time to the lovely borough of Queens, she asked me if I thought she gave up her only chance at stability when she broke up with her boyfriend of going on three years. Of course I told her that she was better off without that low-life, but rather than my regular feminist responsive of something along the lines of "it was leaving him that opened up the possibility of stability for you," I landed somewhere in the middle. Likening their relationship to a vertical climb, another one of her friends had told her that her ex had "plateau-ed." I reminded her that standing on a shaky plateau with a fat man is a bad idea. (He was rather overweight, and plateaus for self-indulgent people usually mean one thing: Their next move is down.) However, for me, this middle ground feeling was quite unsettling, being that I find comfort in extremes. If I am unhappy I will up and move. I make life-changing decisions over night and carry them out with the confidence of a well-formulated plan.

I said once to someone, you are calm and composed on the outside but there is so much bubbling just under the surface, waiting for an opportunity to escape.
"How do you know that?" he asked.
"I just know this type of stuff," I answered lamely. He was like an un-popped popcorn kernel, stuck in his restriction. I knew there was a fluffy, light-colored being in there, waiting for a release. Although, at the same time, a tight little casing is effective in fending off mostly everything and it's warm in small spaces. It's just that from this momentary mid-point, I was able to claim relative sanity and see that becoming lighter so the air can carry you, doesn't take away the casing you came in.