So, what would you say to a 9 year old who is in the midst of an existential crisis that would make Camus weep?
I think this perceptive boy has seen under my veil, knows that I feel my life has no meaning, so encouragement from me rings hollow.
My son says, "Nothing matters. Life is meaningless."
Yes, sure, life has meaning, son. Cough. Cough. Wouldn't you rather know how babies are made?
I want to be happy. I want to be the kind of mother who is always full of light and sunshine, patience and gentleness, Valium and bourbon.
I'm just not that kind of person. I don't have it in me.
I can't even fake it.
I'm a cynic, a gentle soul with a short fuse. I'm a hugger and a yeller. I run on coffee and adrenaline.
I don't think life has meaning.
I don't believe in much.
I don't believe in Karma. If I did I would think I'd done something REALLY REALLY bad in a previous life.
I don't believe in God but I'm not above attempting to quell my son's worries with stories of an all loving all knowing God. God is just one more fictional character used to entertain and manipulate our children.
Santa, the Easter Bunny, the Tooth Fairy, God, and other lies my mother told me. Or, Santa, the Easter Bunny, the Tooth Fairy, and God walked into a bar. The bartender said...
I don't believe that bullshit, the universe works in mysterious ways. If I did, I might sit up straight and say, Hey, Universe, you passive aggressive fuck. Tell me plainly what it is you expect of me. Don't expect me to decipher the secret meaning imbued in these weird coincidences and potentially symbolic events. I'm simple and easily confused.
So, if it's all meaningless, why did I have kids?
If I don't believe in anything, why'd I bring them into the world?
Here ya go, new little life. Remember life is suffering, you're born, you live, you die. That's it. The rest is up to you. Have Fun!
Did I think that my life's meaning was to be found in motherhood? Some self serving desire to do something good and profound, raise good kids who grow up to be good people, good people who do good things.
If my legacy is my children, well, fuck me. What a shitty reason to have kids.
No pressure kid, but my entire worth as a human being, my sole purpose for
living was to bring you into the world and keep you alive until such
time as you could do something extraordinary.
What do I say to a child who looks me in the eye and says, "I wasn't supposed to be born. I shouldn't be here."
My son says things that I've been thinking about myself for years.
I am an error.
I never ever meant for him to see this side of me. I meant to keep this hidden from him.
I want to tell him what he's seeing is me, he's not looking into a mirror.
We have to make our own meaning.
Then we have to believe it's real even if we know it's not.
I envy those who believe in stuff, gods, or karma, or the mysterious unfolding of the universe.
What do I believe in enough to call real?
Nothing was meant to be and yet here we all are.
If that isn't a miracle there are no miracles.