Black Velvet Purse

I have maybe 3 things that I could write about this morning. My black velvet purse that I wore around my neck as a kid, my side part, and finally seeing my mom's picture with a side part and wanting to look like her instead of anyone else. And that I am not a realtor. I guess the side part wins. But I know I need to come back to the black velvet purse. Maybe they are the same story. Lets see how this goes. I have been obssessing over where to part my hair. Standing in front of the bathroom mirror, pushing it all the way back, letting it fall in the middle, or to the side. My madness climaxed last night when instead of getting into bed next to my wonderful companion, Jeff, I went instead to his computer and googled (god i hate to admit this) Penelope Cruz to see where she parts her hair. (I would love to look like Penelope Cruz.) She parts it in the middle and to the side, all different ways. FYI. But back to me. I will never look like Penelope Cruz but I can look like me. Which I am just now learning is all right. Though I have run away from me for at least the last 47 years. I had this really wonderful childhood. A wonderful mother, father and a younger sister. I was bright, pretty, happy. And I wore this black velvet bag that had drawstrings around my neck. Inside were all of my most precious belongings. I don't remember what they were but I know that I wore it. I feel it there like someone who has lost a leg feels the phantom feelings of that long lost leg. So fast forward ....when I was 10 mom got cancer. Breast Cancer. And it was awful. They hacked her apart for 3 years and then she died. And dad, Lynnie and I died with her. So when I was 13 I now realize I started this run like a crime spree only it was my life, where I drank wine every night with dinner and really never felt my life. I ran from the little kid with the black velvet purse around her neck. I ran from the Detroit neighborhood I grew up in. And all of the things that made me happy. And for years and years and years I lived this increasingly flattening out life. And always at arms length. I couldnt feel my life. My sister decscribes it as the Colgate shield between me and life. I had 2 husbands, a son, a beautiful son, a career as a tv news reporter for 26 27 years and only started feeling inside what was going on when I came into AA at 56 and stopped drinking. It has been a slow thaw but it has been thawing. I have 3 years and almost 6 months of sobriety and I feel today. I was sitting in a meeting this morning and realized I wear this black almost round purse around my neck. And I keep all of my valuable possessions in it, including a rock Lily gave me when we were walking the dog one day. But there it is. I am becoming me. And to become me I have to remember mom who I had squeezed out of consciousness. All of her good and all of her beauty and all of her kindness. It was so horrible when she died. So back to the part. I have spent my life trying to look the part. Trying to be thin and beautiful but it was like a moving target. I didn't know what I looked like. I only knew what I wanted to look like. Which was anything but me. I have curly hair so I worked like mad to straighten it. If only I had straight hair I told myself I could enjoy the canoe ride. Could jump into the Russian River the way Nina did from the canoe and the way she was able to swing out from a branch and land in the water. She was beautiful with long straight hair. But truth is I was beautiful with long curly hair. I just didn't know it. I was miserable. If only I were thinner, then it would be ok that my hair is curly. If only I were taller I would look better with curly hair. Or if it were blond. I had a million if onlys. But never--well there was a moment but only a fleeting moment. I do remember at Pine Manor a girl who had curly hair and she didn't try to straighten it. She just let it be curly all over the place and it was kind of unruly but it was beautiful and for one second I thought I could do that and maybe I would be pretty. And on my honeymoon. Miller and I went to Cabo San Lucas on our honeymoon and we swam and drank constantly and my hair went very curly and Miller loved it. And I was thrilled to just let it be. And so I had it cut when we got back to let it go curly. It was still long but in layers. But no one liked it (except Miller) when we got back and I panicked and straightened it out again. So this long thing with my hair. I am just becoming me now at 60 and sober and probably doing the work that I should have done at 13 but never did. So I woke up this morning wondering how to part my hair and I looked at this picture of my mother standing next to her sister, My aunt Suzie and saw my mom's part to the side and for the first time thought how beautiful she was and that I look like my mother which is ok. and more than ok. she is back in my life and I am back in my life or at least coming alive. So I guess I can part my hair on the side and let it go curly.