Back to the Apes

Forgive me, dear friend, for the long pause. I had no appetite these last several days, a phenomenon that correlated with my having nothing to say. It was a long sterile dozen of foodless and thoughtless days (daze?).

I love all you said about Lessing and heroines. The support structures we go to when we’re in the wilderness–do they lose potency once we choose a basket with a conclusion? If so, why? Is it like bread when you’re starving? Or water when you’re thirsty? You understand its value when everything in you craves it, but once it’s in abundant supply all you really want is Coke or a frappuccino–something that carries its punch with it, and doesn’t require those layers of imaginative processing.

It’s frightening to see glimpses of terrible normalcy—normalcy uninflected by feelings of abandonment or pangs of regret. To see the lazy self reemerge unchanged, intact, after all it’s been through, is exceptionally depressing.

I reached the lowest weight I’ve had as an adult recently. It was strange to find myself living in this new body, to see things sag that used to fit—to see gaps and folds and wrinkles in fabric where there used to be ordinary thighs. To see bones and structures in my face that weren’t there before. I’m not dangerously thin or anything, but this was the latest change, and for a day or two I clung to it out of interest, before scaring myself and developing a healthy craving for a burger.

The thing is, after all that’s happened, I’ve been seeing the world as if it were new. Now possibilities collapse or never were. That 3-D vision of things, through goggles, that doesn’t seem quite right but thrills you because there’s a pink layer and a blue layer and look! It’s flying towards you. Towards YOU! flags because suddenly everything seems terribly old, just like it was before. Everything is the same, and all that’s changed is your particular brand of solitude. You are alone, and you notice things more, and that may be something, but it’s also all.

But what’s your answer to all this, dear CF? You have reached that fictive conclusion of Lessing’s and are—unto yourself—a question to its conclusiveness. Do you think you’ve abandoned those structures of support? Where do you find them now?

Fondly,
Millicent

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