Feb 24 2008
Who? What? How?
Soap Opera Sunday is being hosted by Abish today. Head on over to her site for her post and for links to the rest of the soapiness. (For more info about Soap Opera Sunday, read this.)
(This story began here and continued to here and then here…)
Suddenly I was single— oh how I’d always LOVED being single. The DABU (Day After Break-Up) had always been the happiest. I would go and get my hair done (seriously— strange ritual, I know, but I always did it. People who were close to me always knew when I’d broken up with someone because my hair was suddenly completely different) and then go find at least one cute boy to kiss meaninglessly. (Sometimes, um, more than one…) Ahhhhhhh, so great.
But this, as I said before, was different. No relief, no joy, no haircut, no wasted kisses. Just misery, sorrow, loneliness, and… well… tears. Lots of ‘em.
The feeling of having just made the biggest mistake of my life.
I went to work, I went through all the motions, I continued on with my life. But I felt so hollow, so empty. I couldn’t get Blake out of my mind.
I knew that if I called him, he would take me right back. I was completely confident in his love for me. But I also knew that if I were to call him, I would have to be ready to answer that Big Question. Calling him would be the equivalent of signing my name to a marriage license.
WHY couldn’t I do that? How many women were wandering around DYING to fall in love, DYING to be loved back, DYING to be married and start popping out babies? What was wrong with me? The perfect man, the perfect life, the perfect love, and it scared me to death.
Surely I was meant for something bigger. Surely I was meant for something more exciting and noteworthy and celebratory than marriage. I had dreams, plans, goals. Granted, I wasn’t making any progress towards those dreams and goals. In fact, the more steps I took towards them, the more they sounded like someone else’s desires rather than my own.
And suddenly I found myself in the middle of an identity crisis.
All my life, it had always been the same problem. As a child, when asked in school what I wanted to be when I grew up, I never had an answer. I never had any idea what I really wanted to do or who I wanted to be. As I was finishing up high school and was courted by various universities, I didn’t know where I wanted to go or why. Once I found myself in college, I changed my major not once but FOUR times in the 3 semesters I attended college— and nothing I “tried on” ever seemed to “fit”.
Others had picked up on my aimlessness. I still have parent/teacher conference reports dating back to third grade filled with comments such as, “Brillig has so much potential, but she doesn’t seem to have any goals or direction.” Potential, potential, potential. That’s all I ever heard. Potential that I was never living up to, because I could never find a reason to dedicate myself to anything. Potential… so much potential. There came a point where it made me furious. Potential for what????
Who was I, and what exactly did I want?
I dropped to my knees, as I had so many times before, and begged to know what it was that I was supposed to be doing.
And then, slowly but surely, what started as a little thought grew into a conviction and then to an urgent, all-consuming knowledge.
The things that had seemed so important before were now clearly nothing but silliness. The “dreams, goals, and plans” were no longer who I was— I wasn’t even sure they ever had been. They were so trivial and absolutely not worth trading true love for.
I still didn’t quite know who I was or what I wanted out of life, but I knew one thing for sure: I was in love with Blake. He was my future. He was the one dream, goal, and plan that now held any place in my heart.
And so I picked up the phone and nervously dialed his number…
(to be continued…)
Good cliffhanger! Can’t wait for more!
Oh, boy. I so identify. (I changed my major six times.) Way to leave us hanging, lady! Though why I’m not used to it by now, I’m sure I don’t know.
Wow. I’ve clearly been missing out on some good reading. And your purpose? Not that you aren’t in a great place now but you you should seriously consider finding a way to be “traditionally” published. You are a terrific writer.
I never knew what I wanted to be, either. So much so that I never even planned on college.
I’m excited to hear what happened when you called. I’m not cheating this time and waiting until you have three SOS’s so I don’t have to deal with the anticipation. Haha.
Your name caught my eye - so I have popped in for a look…
You remind me of someone - - - so of course I am interested..
Have bookmarked you and will be back…good writing btw!
Just another comment - sorry -
I got Brillig before I even came here…did you study English perhaps in university? The Norton Anthology by any chance?
Hahahahahahahahahhaaaaa
This story is only funny to me because I witnessed the aftermath of all the other “break-ups” and you talking about your rituals is hilarious to me.
HOW DOES IT END????
I love this story- I’ve never heard this one. Not that I should be surprised. It’s all past….but STILL. Loving it….can’t wait to hear how it ends.
Oooohhh… I can’t wait to hear the rest!!!!
I’ve always loved break-ups, too. I’m glad there’s someone else out there!
Great cliffhanger. . .you mean Brillig, you.
I can’t wait to find out what happens next.
[…] he called me? Please go to Abish’s blog for my soapy goodness, and check out founders Brillig’s and Kate’s […]
Making me wait again eh?
You really have the storyteller’s gift.
What a great story. You have a great way of making things feel universal–even though I never changed my major, my hair, or went in search of boys to kiss!
yikes….how will I EVER wait an entire week to find out what happened next…I am sitting here on the edge of my seat considering the possibilities…lol.
I think I fit that potential thing still…Sigh! I’m anxious for next week to hear what happened next!
Oh my goodness. I can’t wait for more!!
I knew you’d call him. Hee hee…I’m all giddy. This is such a wonderful insight, Brilly-Brill. Lovin’ it!!
now I wonder….is your husband’s name Blake??? what a cliffhanger.
Now, while I am completely intrigued by the love story within, I am most intrigued by how you and I both came out of a shared culture (and all it’s *ahem* pressure to multiply and replenish) and yet, turned out so differently. What I am trying to say here is that I wish, really wish, I had ever known any drive to do anything other than fall in love, marry and pop out babies. I wish, really wish, that I might have had a hint that there was something other than the above available to me. How did you make it through all the YW lessons and still come out NOT wanting those things? Is this a generational difference between us, or a basic personality difference? For all my rebellion I never once considered bucking THAT part of the system. Something, obviously, I have a bit of lingering regret over.
Can I just be you?
Ah. Now I think I see.
If only sober authenticity were possible in the moment, when things are actually happening. It is, of course, virtually impossible as between highly-strung people in the mate-finding moment, if you will. Pretensions are the bread and butter of that stage, and any immediate visions of what seem to be a person’s core character, a mirage. We grope (if you’ll pardon the word in context) after the truth, and yet steadfastly refuse it to others. And in that swirling milieu we make some of the most important decisions of our lives. Alas.
But now I think I see. You. Maybe just a bit. It’s startling, frankly. It makes feel very…contemplative. But I have work to do…”and miles to go before I sleep,” as it were.
I’m glad I read this.
argh! Must I wait? I guess I have to to find out if my theory’s are correct.
Ooooo…can’t wait to see what happens next
Sorry I didn’t get one to you this week…I’ll try for next SOS, okay?
I just love break-up stories!
Hee hee, I love that you had break up rituals. Mad.
Brillig, check out Life is a spasm if you want to find out what I said. And ha! It is all your fault!
Oh i can’t wait to hear the rest