That time I Fell into a Nihilistic Hellhole

If you’ve been hanging around Wonderland for a while, you might know I work as a therapist, in addition to caring for my daughter and pontificating to you all via THE INTERNET a couple times per week. Now, being a therapist involves a lot of sitting in stiff-backed chairs, mustache-twirling, pipe-smoking, and saying “mmm…mmmhmmm.” Just kidding. But seriously, I was wondering why my 1.5 year old daughter, Warrior Girl, says “uh huh” and “hmmm” all the time when my husband pointed out it is because I am a therapist. But really, being a therapist involves a whole lot of listening to things that are hard to hear, and a whole lot of sitting with people in their sadness, their anger, their despair. This is tough to do without a paradigm of life that can give meaning and/or coherence to the vast suffering we therapists (and humans in general) encounter on the daily. So not long ago, I was skating through life, not really paying attention, when suddenly I woke up and found myself in a nihilistic hellhole of absurdity. Yes, yes, I’m sure…

Becoming a Mother

I was 25 when I became a mother. Within moments, my reality changed. I am no longer the main character, the protagonist. I am no longer center stage. Each new generation comes (so it seems) and feels they know better, they are smarter, they won’t make the same mistakes as the previous generations. The future is in their hands. And once, I was important, I knew better, I was smarter, my future was limitless. But that is not now. I (hopefully) have many years ahead of me, but the world’s future is in the hands of my daughter, and the children of my friends and sisters, children who will certainly feel themselves to be much clearer of vision, much surer of foot. It’s not a bad thing. It is not a bad thing to become a supporting character after a lifetime of being Number One. A small death, perhaps. But I have been resurrected a Mother.   **** *I want to note that for me, this transformation has been positive and humbling. I do not mean that my identity or self-hood has become subsumed into this “motherhood” role. I am myself as…