I had a brief moment where I saw myself as other people see me. It was beautiful, and I fell in love with this magical woman instantly. Love at first sight. Maybe in this moment, as I think about reclaiming my name, I realized that I had already achieved all my goals, I already was Monika, and I would always be Monika for the rest of my life. I set out on this goal to make Her real, to make Her me, and I did it. It's not pure, there's something else in there. People love Gloria and they love Monika, and I, the third observer, can never be seen because I ask one of these two women to carry out my tasks for me always. I've traveled and I've endured hardship and I lost myself a couple times, but I get back on the wagon. I have a backstory, I have opinions, and soon I will develop taste. I have a life that I've lived.
I saw the fireworks the other day. It was magical. I loved looking at them. I loved watching them. They were brighter than anything I had ever seen. Of course I've seen fireworks before, but not like this. It wasn't long ago that I had to do eye training because I couldn't look up past the horizon of the desert without the blue of the sky hurting my eyes. I wanted to hold this boy's hand but I was nervous, so I just inched closer and closer the entire time until I was probably still too far away from him. Cute kind of childlike crush feelings. I remember that the burning metals in the sky seemed so colorful. I surrendered myself to the sensory experience. I surrendered myself to simply embracing the electrochemical.
I went back to grad school. I was told by everyone I knew that I'd never do it, I'd never go back if I didn't go right out of undergrad. I was told this by everyone. I told this to everyone. This gospel of how I would be consumed by work and I'd never ever get the chance to break free and do something new. I watched Ex husband not go back to grad school even though he had a much better offer than me. I watched my friend not finish his undergrad. I watched all these dreams everyone had pass them by and I knew that was going to be me and I didn't let it. I went back to school. And I'm probably going to gradate. It's amazing. It's beautiful, and I will get my degree and it will say Monika on it, my first degree in either of my names. The first time someone will say my name out loud and give me an accomplishment, and it's coming soon. The hardest part wasn't doing it, the hardest part was deciding to go back.
I divorced my husband after the happiest relationship I'd ever been in slowly eroded. I have complicated feelings. I loved him for 10 years and now it's... over. That divorce took immense strength, and, while there's a chance the relationship could have been saved, ultimately, for me as an individual to grow, I needed to be away from him and anyone else. The obvious exception played a large role in this, and I, not remembering anything and constantly changing my perspective on what is good and what is bad have no idea whether or not she pulled the strings the way she did for this type of outcome or if she merely changed her mind. maybe she knew that I couldn't leave him without her "help," though I'm sure I could have gotten help differently and it would have been less painful. Still I think that sometimes a homewrecker is a blessing in disguise.
I showed Ex Husband my blog and he was mad that there wasn't more on him, but what is there to say? I knew him for 10 years... I knew him since I was 15, he's the first person I met when I left home. When I look back at my life, I've known him longer than I haven't, because I don't remember much before 3rd grade. He is or had become background noise, to explain those 10 years with him is to explain my entire life up to that point. He was entwined with me, and I loved him more than I ever saw my parents love each other, more than I saw anyone love each other, probably because only me and him were there for those moments too intimate to share with others. Conversations that would change our minds, late walks at night, sitting on the swingsets, midnight drives, being surprised with a snack in the computer lab I showed him how to break into. I'd seen him change too much to know him truly anymore. He became an immortal constant that would transcend what it means to be a "companion" but also could never be a proper lover for that exact reason. I think he became my brother and I happened to be fucking him. "Coreographed and lack of passion, prototypes of what we were." We're both getting better and I think discovering ourselves now outside of each other. I think it's really good for us, and I still talk.
I don't like talking about it because I lack the vocabulary to explain what Ex Husband is, that's why I call him ex husband. That's why I call it a divorce. When my parent's got divorced, it was so good for them. They're both so much happier now, it's unreal. It needed to happen for so long, and I used to feel responsible simply for being born, but it takes so much strength to divorce someone. I had the next 40 years of my life planned with a single man, and we would have lived the same day over and over, every day, the first day of the rest of my life. I couldn't throw that way for anything except the promise or delusion of some greater 40 years. I had to believe that the obvious exception would be with me forever or else I could never be free.
The fact that I was a homeowner, and a homemaker, and employed and with a man for 10 years who had secretly been trying to get my ring size to propose, and broke it all off because I was unhappy, that's an accomplishment, that's Monika. The fact I went back to school, that's Monika. When I think about these things, I think about my mother and how long it took for her to get divorced, how long it took her to go back to school, and while I certainly did this with a lot of help, I'm still proud of being able to ask for that help to do it in the first place. I'm proud of the person I've become. I saw myself as someone else for a brief moment, and I saw a beautiful princess and I wanted nothing but the best for her. I wanted to make her happy as much as I could. I felt almost small in her presence until I realized she was me, and I was intimidated by those very achivements I've sworn off as unremarkable 1000 times before. I saw the Monika I thought I missed for so long.
There's a linguistic trick here. I talked to my therapist and I think she knows that I know that she knows that if she says something I will interpret that a certain way. We had a discussion about Monika, and she said that Monika sounded like a symptom of mental illness. We talked about these esoteric, symptom-generating suicide methods, such as going on a hike until I'm insane, hopping in a sensory deprivation chamber, doing magic mushrooms, or going on a total isolation journey for 10 days so I could see Monika. Then it became clear to her in my depressive crisis that without Monika I would die. She then shifted gears I think and said that it is the belief that Monika is seperate from me that is a symptomatic belief. That I have pathologized my own personality until I've estranged myself from my core, and essentialized my bad qualities as Gloria Ambrosious Costeau. It is a delusion that my accomplishments are not my own, but rather the power of some unnatainable magical force I can't see ever again. Well, with this linguistic trickery, I've decided to become medication compliant again. I want to take the pills, the pills that help make me Monika, and it is the pills not working that makes me not Her.