It seems that I've been uncertain of my place in the world of late, and rather than taking the proverbial bull by the horns and asserting my inherited--and, surely, inherent--strength, I've been running and reacting. I wonder when we learned this? I wonder when we learned that we cannot be the mistresses of our own destiny because and because and because?
Certainly I never learned this cowering, this less-than, this helplessness from my own mother, a fierce woman in her own right who takes no shite from anyone (nor does she take no as an answer--she's very persuasive). I suppose I could cast blame widely and loudly--peers, teachers, media--and it would hit a target, but to what end? And, really, what does it matter now?
What matters is only to wake up from the ridiculous delusion that we are not only powerless, but *at the mercy of.* That's it, isn't it? That's the scary bit, the beguilingly attractive bit--to put oneself at the mercy of x or y. We're "saved" from making hard choices, from taking any responsibility for our lives, but we lose our hard-won autonomy, our stunning uniqueness, and our in-born ability to take no shite from anyone.