Blogging, at least in the way that I do it, is narcissistic. It is shocking to me that anyone would actually want to read about my clothes and my shoes and, oh yeah, my occasionally mindblowing moments of connectedness with all that is, and love for the world so powerful that it leaves me thunderstruck, speechless, and deliciously broken. I was having a moment of having had enough of me today – feeling like I really am the most self-centered, narcissistic pile of ego to walk the earth, when the question arose: Well, what else do people think about, other than themselves? Sure, we all think about other people, but mostly in relation to… ourselves. And of course, there are those amazing, connected moments, but mostly it’s all me, all the time.
As an only child, I got the message from very early that of course I am self-centered and selfish, because that is just one of those things wrong with only children. People joke about it, but by the time I was eight or nine years old, I was so tired of hearing about it that I started working very hard not to be self-centered and selfish. Most other only children I have met are the same way; the ones with self-awareness tend to be generous to a painful fault. But, at the same time, we tend to move between extremes – in this case generosity and a ferocious internal focus that excludes just about everyone. (Not to say that we can’t grow up and moderate -everyone has their stuff- but the tendency is there.) I will give you everything, just back the fuck off. Push pull. We are not easy.
One afternoon when I was volunteering at the humane society in Illinois, I was cleaning the kitten room with a few other volunteers. One was griping about some one in her extended family, and mentioned the person was an only child. With abundant sarcasm and a smile, I said something like, “Well, you know ALL only children are weird.” As they all agreed vigorously, I learned that the stereotype holds true even into adulthood when we should know better, and the midwest really does not get sarcasm or inference.
But wait – this post is about ME, not Illinois. And my shoes, or something. Well, I got my new fuzzy shoes, and they’re fantastic. So soft and warm and delightful. Maybe I would like them in every color.
If my only child turns about to half the person you are, I will consider my job as a mother, mentor, friend and guardian a success.
You know, I really didn’t know how to respond to this, other than to say thank you, thank you, thank you, love. I can think of no higher compliment. Your only child is amazing. He is such a good soul, and lucky to have you and Clavin as parents to let him shine.