My Life in a Tote Bag
There is only so long you can live out of a tote bag. And it is okay to be a separatee.
When I left, I left pretty much everything I owned behind. The urge to reclaim my autonomy was so overwhelming that I was prepared to suffer, losing all the landmarks of a stable life. I had been here before and knew the demons that inhabited this place intimately. I prepared myself for the onslaught of taunts, “You’re a failure”, “You have fucked yet another relationship”, and “What is wrong with you??”
What is wrong with me? Indeed. Nothing, it turns out. Well, nothing and everything, no different from every other human on the planet (yes, I’m struggling to include Putin and Trump here…everything is wrong with them…I digress). I am simply an ‘other’ in the relationship world, not a ‘lifer’. It is not an inability to last the distance but an ability to resist and, at times, rebuke the social conditioning of our times. And let’s face it, in times past, a long-term relationship, aka marriage, was necessary for survival. It isn’t anymore, but we still attach such value to coupledom and measure success in the years it lasted (with the same person).
And heaven forbid I leave a relationship that 1) was with a perfectly good person and 2) that children were created or supported within. Whether a child comes from a “broken home” is still a red flag in paediatrics, and I find this challenging to contemplate. If it meant that the people within the home were broken through trauma or abuse, I could understand, but it just means separated parents. This is insulting.
I know a lot of bad behaviour can infect the end of a relationship, and children often get caught up in it, hence the red flag. But it doesn’t have to be like that. It’s possible to minimise, if not avoid, fallout. It is possible to separate well. My daughter brought joy to my heart when she told me about her couples therapist friend who has more people asking her to help them break up well rather than ‘save’ their relationship than ever before. A good separation does save a relationship anyway because it enables it to morph into something far more sustainable. And protecting children from the sadness of separation doesn’t prepare them for a life where they will have to face sadness many times, but the ‘separatee’ is punished for this nonetheless.
Interestingly, the Merriam-Webster definition of separatee;
SEPARATEE is an individual in process of separation from active military service.
Deficit narratives always have to be climbed over by people desperate to escape existing constructs, a desperation borne of not seeing themselves anywhere. A desire to identify has them scrabbling out of the box. Our queer communities have done this pridefully for the last couple of decades, and yep, it was hard-won initially. Now they demand equality in their value and relationship status. I want to feel that about being, what, a multiple separatee?
Yes, I am thankful that the law enables this but society still doesn’t accept it. I know I am judged. I know that I am looked down on as a less successful person, not least because my financial situation is assumed to be worse. My sort-of-ex-sister-in-law (friend) would argue that I am just judging myself. No doubt. Still, it is also the sideways glances and the muttering. Some people adopt this weird ‘period of silence’ while trying to figure out from a distance whether I’m a danger. Another friend wanted me to reconsider my last separation because “it unsettles me when my friends go through this.” I get it. I just don’t want to feel like a pity party or that I am infectious.
I have always swum upstream, and it is as tiring as fuck. Not least because the judgements of others join the demons in finding my trauma points and self-doubt. I feel the disapproval and the drag of mainstream, and my will falters, but I am compelled to go against the flow. I am anadromous like the salmon; it is a hard-wired instinct. So even if I wanted to play nice and conform, I couldn’t because something more powerful drives me. I’ve taken to calling it divine discontent, which Osho describes, albeit with a gendered god,
One who has divine discontent is the most fortunate, because only those who are afire with a desire to know god will be able to know him…People are in discontent, but their discontent is about things – prestige, power, money, et cetera. The same discontent has to be turned and focussed on god. Once all the discontent of life is focussed on god, it creates tremendous energy… energy that can transform you just by its sheer presence. You can ride on the wave of it.
I haven’t watched the Netflix documentary on Osho yet - apparently, some of his leadership practices were grim…for now, I base my judgement on the feeling I get from his words. I also become increasingly aware of our lived paradox where we can’t seem to have the light without the shadow, the yin without the yang, or the love without the hate - is this our ‘flawed’ or our ‘whole’ human experience?
A month or so ago, I bought a house with my daughter. It was around the time I was lamenting to her that my tote bag life was becoming onerous. I gestured toward three spilling contents onto the floor of the bedroom I found myself in at the time. She told me not to worry and that we would create an installation of tote bags at our new place to honour this period in my life. We moved in, and then I left again.
So now I find myself in New York, contemplating buying yet another tote bag to put some of my life into. I have come to my Harlem coffee local, Double Dutch, to caffeinate and write, and they have tote bag merchandise! My check-in luggage was loaded because it included camping gear I won’t need after next week, until Scotland, so I’ll post it ahead - I’ll put it in the tote bag!
I had planned this trip for longer than I had planned home ownership, hence leaving so soon after moving in. It was one of those domino effect moments in life when it’s ‘meant to be’, and it all happens so quickly. Such is my life and how I position myself to respond to the pull of the next right thing, which also applies to my relationships. If I don’t get the message the first time, my body sounds an alarm, and other telltale things happen. I begin to lose myself, which manifests as existential pain. The universe (our collective consciousness, god, fairies out left - you’ll have your own understanding) tries to remind me of my original plan. It cares little for norms or expectations but seems wired to the soul’s evolution. And when I think about it from this angle, I shake my head sadly at the judgement trap I let myself be lured into.
I read Nick Cave’s Red Hand Files, and yesterday’s post explored a question about art and identity. He says,
We must cease to concern ourselves with our unique suffering - whether we are happy or sad, fortunate or unfortunate, good or bad - and give up our neurotic and debilitating journeys of self-discovery.
Guilty as charged. How long will I continue to try and deconstruct my identity, using it as my excuse for not yet arriving at my art, my completed book?
Someone asked me, “When will you be content?” But I am content. I am content in my seeking. I am in divine discontent. And anyway, Nick Cave has one of those perfect, long-term relationships that I continue to be unnerved by and measure myself against. I rate him, though. He is as prophet-like and cult leader-like as Osho or others. We are all light and shadow, good and bad, everything and nothing. We’re meant to see the two sides of our whole so we don’t kid ourselves that we are better than anybody else. We all just…are.
Hmmm the allure of divine discontent! I feel braver every time I read your writings or more recently having been around you so briefly, absorbing your freedom vibes. With my partner away again I'm indulging in life on my terms and mulling over the feelings of happiness on my own. Well, me and my furry friends. The constant back and forwards thoughts of being happy alone but enjoying the company having a partner affords ... or do I? I love my own company more and more, the total amazingness of not having to explain anything to anyone about why I do what I do, when I do. For now, I will follow your intrepid journey and live vicariously free through your musings on social media! Enjoy my friend :-)
Remember your bag that matched the couch in Dunedin x