Mad Scientist

It was a typical day in the life of a 40 year old. I wake up in my awesome king sized bed in a large house by the lake. Coffee has already been made. Newspaper has been brought in. Breakfast is cooking. The sprinkler is on watering the grass. Chicken eggs are fresh from the coop in the back yard. The fridge is stocked with fresh vegetables and fruit. My favorite foods are in the pantry. Lunches for my boys have been made and their clothes freshly washed and folded. The doorbell rings. It is my ex delivering my two boys. To my parent's house. I live in a house where everything is cared for as if I have a live in cook/nanny/house keeper/grounds keeper. I pay for nothing yet profit from everything. Totally typical of a 40 year old single mom, right? Not quite. The life I am getting to participate in belongs to my parents. And they are taking care of me and my boys unselfishly because that's who they are. It's what they do. I am a visitor in their home. Not a day goes by when I don't wonder just when my own life will define itself. My friend said to me last night on the breezy patio of my favorite bar that we are constantly reinventing ourselves. This was her response to my asking her how people figure out who they are and what they want, with a crack in my voice. Tears waiting for the cue to fall. Which is never far away. Her words filled my empty places and brought with them a picnic complete with wine and cheese and a blanket on a hill. I did cry. But the tears were sweet and laced with hope. I am the daughter of a Southern Baptist minister. He has been a pastor his whole life. He and my mom married when they were 18 and 19. My mom is a fabulous Household Engineer and a constant friend. I have two siblings, one older and one younger. So not only am I a preacher's daughter. I am also a middle child. Lovely, fantastic combo. I have attempted to navigate life by looking for stability in men. I needed them to tell me who I was. Where I was going in life. And just who I should be. Because of this lamentable fact I have been with a wide spectrum of the opposite sex. Maybe in an attempt to find closeness with my father. Maybe in an attempt to break free of perceived rules in my Southern Baptist world. Maybe just because I'm a rebel and very, very, very curious about human nature. Let's go with the latter. My curiosity supersedes my reason most of the time. I do not have that fearful gene where I run from the different. In fact, I don't view much as different from me. I am sold on the consistent nature of man across the board. We are all in part good and evil. The details of how that manifests itself does not change my belief that we are one in the same. Created by the same amazing God. Because of this curiosity, I get close to people that perhaps I shouldn't. My string of men before my first marriage was a long, knotted rope of dichotomy. They were artists, soccer players, business analysts, ministers, bankers, architects, doctors, lawyers, mechanics, construction workers, writers, comedians... Their personalities also widely varied. Kind, edgy, intelligent, withdrawn, rambunctious, driven, laid back, egotistical, unselfish, honest, seedy... They came from the quiet countryside, the rainy British landscape, bustling cities, slow towns, beautiful scenery, impoverished worlds. Their families were rich, poor, middle class, unknown, stable, abusive, creative, travelers, isolated, tender, formal. And because of this capacious assortment of men, who I was became convoluted and fragile instead of the desired goal -- someone who knew exactly who they were. This undesirable outcome also came with the unpleasant accomplice -- a need for constant companionship, regardless of design, and a bottomless need for validation and assurance. To most this diverse collection looked like an assortment of hasty decisions lacking thought and logic. And usually labeled poor/bad/ugly/stupid/meaningless/foolish/dense/rash/shortsighted decisions. But to me, at the time, they made complete sense. It was akin to being a scientist. I researched human behavior. I gathered data for my own pleasure and inquisitiveness. Therefore my tolerance for other people became unusually high compared to others and my subjects were never alike. It had its benefits, but as with everything it also had negative aspects, this curiosity about humanity. Research, if costly to the one gathering the information, becomes immaterial because the price of the research has exceeded the benefit of the denouement. It's a by-product of studying human behavior through the lens of intimacy. The participants don't escape the consequences. As a result, I have compounded what should have been a pleasant trait and created a blown up negative sphere of repercussions and the cost has been my sanity (at times) but always my amour-propre. So perhaps I was just experimenting with all the different partners. Or perhaps somewhere along the way the experiment itself became the need for someone, anyone, to fulfill me. It's probably a little bit of both. Now that I am a mom, I'm tasked with the job of being cautious with the hearts of my two fascinating boys. Graham has my personality trait of being unafraid. Brady has my personality trait of being inquisitive. And much to the chagrin of almost everyone in my life, they will be exposed to many different people. Which will hopefully be a positive part of them having me as a mom. Or perhaps I will scar them in a way that is irreparable. I would like to meet a parent who doesn't have this fear. In my atypical world, in my parent's world, perhaps I can use my compilation of studies and find purpose and meaning in each one. And create a woman who is comfortable in her own skin. At least for now.