Leaving the Hellmouth
Apr 1st, 2006 at 11:18 am by Susie
This is my story of the long, strange trip it’s been, living in the Hellmouth. It started with such hope - a “career” job, a Big Love Affair - and ended with me picking up the shattered financial and emotional pieces of my life.
And yet, I can’t help but think how lucky I am. Because every time I convince myself I really do want to fit into a mold, the Universe lets me have it - smack dab in my third eye with the Cosmic Aluminum Bat. (Boy, does that hurt.)
And that guy I was so in love with? Turns out, what he really cared about was money. He wanted someone who had a lot of it and would take care of him. He didn’t think he should have to work anymore. He was too special.
He loved me, I think, as much as he was capable. But unless I came through with the big bucks, I was never under serious consideration. More of an understudy, really, while unbeknownst to me, casting for the female lead was ongoing. Just in case I became successful at the last minute, he kept me dangling with strategic half-truths. I loved him with all my considerable heart and soul, so I let him.
I don’t think he knew what to do with me. To him, women are lesser beings, there to serve. (I won’t label an entire ethnic group, but he is a certain predictable type of middle-aged Italian male.) You know how some men have the madonna/whore syndrome? It was the intellectual equivalent. With him, he was fascinated with the fact that I was his equal; it seemed to annoy him, too - and although he couldn’t stay away, he wanted to break my spirit. And you know what? It almost worked.
It hurt like hell once I knew the worst of his lies but ultimately, I’m grateful. The Universe did me a favor. Being so goddamned broke for so long kept me from something more permanent with someone who, I see now, was the wrong person. If he were the right person, he would have loved who I already was, and he wouldn’t have lied. I wouldn’t have felt like such a fool.
Once I let go, I did get a job. Funny how that works.
Once upon a time, I had some happy memories in this town. It’s just that they were filed under false pretenses and subsequently went sour in light of updated information. For my own sanity, I had to sort them out and find a new category. (First under “Chumped” and currently under “Forgive Later - MUCH Later.” You know, when I’m a bodhisattva?)
I mourned the loss of my dreams, and what I was so sure the two of us had. That took a while. But, as Barry would say, I made it through the rain!
So it’s with a considerably lighter heart that I head back to the open arms of my real true love, the City of Philadelphia. Where yes, people tawlk funny and drink wooder, but it’s home sweet home to me.
I’ll miss a few things. It’s green in my little corner of the Hellmouth, and quiet. There’s not a building on the block that isn’t at least 100 years old, they’re not crowded up against each other and there’s a creek flowing by. There’s also a lot of history here (Peggy Shippen, the future Mrs. Benedict Arnold, visited just down the road at her uncle’s house), but history’s easily forgotten if it gets in the way of yet another strip mall or cookie-cutter McMansions. And there are still far too many Republicans.
I liked it when packages that didn’t fit my mailbox were left on top, still there when I got home. I had my own parking spot, and a dumpster in the parking lot. Now I have to get used to having a Club on the steering wheel and not leaving anything in the car. Now I have to remember that Wednesday is trash day.
But look what I get in return. The People’s Republic of Mt. Airy is a vibrant, creative neighborhood with writers, musicians, artists and activists, an integrated community where people won’t look at me funny because my best friend is black. A place where grownups ride bicycles, too - and not because their licenses were suspended for DWI.
Why, there are places to hang here that don’t have the mandatory “No Colors Allowed” signs at the entrance (a common practice here in the odd mix of white trash, bikers and upwardly-mobile IT consultants that is the Hellmouth), which is a relief. Because really, it’s such a nuisance when you’re caught in the crossfire.
Despite their quiet suburban evil, the residents of the Hellmouth are just… well, mostly pretty boring. They don’t create much; mostly, they consume. And while I don’t look down on them (after all, not everyone is beckoned by the Muse), this is not my tribe. I don’t belong here.
My ex, on the other hand, does. He always made fun of my books, the music I liked, my ideas about politics and people. “You read too much,” he’d snap at me. He called blogs “a waste of time” and “stupid” (because you can’t make money). He said they’d would never have any political influence and I was “kidding” myself. That I’d never make any money because, after all, I never had. He never, ever believed in me. Nope. And he didn’t even read my blog. (Or claimed he didn’t, which is worse. I was never quite sure.)
Yet at 55, he still plays in a cover band at shithole bars - for peanuts, bless his heart. He was once a gifted songwriter - graced by the Muse, but too fearful to take a chance. He was too paralyzed to risk playing his own songs in public (if only he’d put the same creativity into his work that he does into his excuses about why he can’t). Hence, I think, the obsession with reproducing the notes of someone else’s hit songs; it’s safe. (I’ll give him this: He’s very good at pretending to be someone else.)
I can finally admit to myself how I kept slowing down, hoping he’d catch up with me. Oh well.
But see how nicely this all worked out? He gets to stay in the Hellmouth, and I get to leave. So stay tuned. Because this, dear readers, is the part where I finally live happily ever after.
I’m speechless.
A wonderful piece of literate soul-baring.
I really hope that Mt. Airy turns out to meeet your expectations. You deserve it, Suze.
I see a woman ahead of her time.
I drop by here every once in awhile.
It’s always sad to hear someone else’s heartbreak, although you sound a little farther along than heartbreak. You tell your story well, which means that you understand what you are going through.
When relationships go bad it’s an opportunity to take inventory. Not just the things you’ve got to load and move but the things you don’t need anymore and can leave behind.
By the way, early on in my musical career I realized I couldn’t copy other people’s stuff very well. It was a good excuse for writing my own songs.
Good luck in the future, and meanwhile keep up your writing.
I was really moved by this, beautiful personal voice. I am sorry for your ex, he missed it…o well, karma.
You probably didn’t know you have an avid fan reader (and fellow aspiring bodhisattva) who lives in Chiapas, Mexico. When you go to Philadelphia, please be sure to go to our sister restaurant, The White Dog Cafe. The connection…
From a regular reader over the last couple of years. The universe never gives up happiness easily, it requires a committment to the path. You have perservered and kept your focus on the future and what you needed to have for you to be contented. Best wishes on your life in Mt.Airy. I always enjoy and connect when you write from the heart as you did in this post as it lets the beautiful lady you are shine. Keep blogging and living and we’ll keep checking in with your story.
This gives me hope. I’ll raise a glass to the future tonight, for you and me both.
God’s blessings and a quick healing, Suze.
She’s doing fine, palamedes, and she still writes as clean as a whistle. I’ll talk to here tonight when she’s moved in.
Good luck. You sound pretty good to me.
What a wonderful, graceful essay.
I don’t think you’re considering any change to the “suburban” part of Suburban Guerilla, and if I’m correct, I totally approve, because we know about Hellmouths. It’s awful damn good to see them in the rearview mirror, but even if it had been sucked into a crater, you can’t ever close a Hellmouth. So you never know. Mt. Airy is a safe haven (or at least a safer haven), but from time to time, the suburbs might need some of your guerilla action. So you’d be a guerilla *from* or *for* the suburbs, not *in* the suburbs.
But we don’t have to think about that right now. Congratulations!
(Melanie, please give her a hug for me. If she doesn’t do second-hand hugs sent from strangers, then do one of those “air hugs” and say it’s from me.)
Suzie moved yesterday and is spending the day today unpacking.
Congratulations on your move - may you find much joy in returning to your tribe.
I’ve had the Cosmos send me a signal in the same way as you mention a few times in my life, though I prefer the term “The Cosmic Clue-by-Four”.
Now get unpacked, take a shower and finish the novel.
Then you can break Resolution #2 with someone who’s worth it.
Check out the following website on narcissists…I spend 16 astonishing months with one, then three that were as dreadful as the first 16 had been glorious. Thanks for your open-ness…made me feel less alone.
A fellow blogger of yours, at Rainstorm, sent me to your site.
http://samvak.tripod.com/faq80.html
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