The Death of Youth and what remains

“The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the starts.” Jack Kerouac

Burn, I did. Donnie, my first husband, was the Jack.

Birth

I was born with it. This feeling deep in, I want to say my gut, but its not quite there, perhaps somewhere else submerged and ancient, that was there even before I existed. This led me to believe that if only I connected with the right soul, the missing piece of my puzzle, that someone would miraculously gather all of my crumbling parts and form them into a perfectly divine sculpture.

The first time I experienced this was in a most unlikely place, and it was like a salve over a burning flesh wound.

It was the moment that the nurse first put my child to my breast.

As a good and proper former drug addict, I can say first hand that the Oxytocin produced by breastfeeding is a small slice of euphoria, like nature’s way of putting you back together again after the trauma of child-birth. I felt it course through my body, a slow warmth, like the first sip of bourbon. The numbness and elation worked together like a ride on the fastest roller-coaster, with stomach-dropping descension and an overwhelming feeling of love that pulled my your heart right out of my chest, and instantly rearranged every single piece of my life.

Pairing

It was a cool fall afternoon and the sun was low in the sky when we had our first kiss. I know this because as we stood in front of his new Saab convertible, him in his beige fleece jacket. with the big scorpion on the back, the sun streaming from behind him gave him a halo, shaping his. brown-turned salt and pepper. hair, making him look like an angel. As he leaned in, I closed my eyes, but could still see the blazing orange penetrating my eyelids. His body fit mine. and again, I felt the warmth move through me like home. I had met him on match.com. Rather than choosing my typical bad boy, I decided to go for stability this time, since I had a child to think about. As my friend Rachel said, “Geenie, you have had enough chocolate chunk. Its time to pick a nice vanilla”

My body chemistry during those years was a cocktail of nature’s most powerful chemicals. I was always high, but not from drugs, but from something happening in my brain. My evenings were comprised of me providing my own body as a nest and nutrition to my infant, followed by my lover and I getting to know each other, familiarizing ourselves with each others forms, so much so that I could easily recall every inch a week later. But we never went a week. The fire between us lasted briefly before the real world kicked in, as the next ten years we were to be challenged, as our marriage vows said “ For better or for worse, in sickness and in health”. Time was eroded by death and sickness all around. That place deep inside of me, once again, was triggered, but this time, it was flight or fight. My dinosaur brain said RUN, but my need for the completed puzzle said STAY. The 12 steps say we must “let go of old ideas.” It was time to experience. mature love, not one guided by passion and whimsy. This was the first death of youth.

I stayed with Martin as the heat cooled down, evolving into something much deeper, but I moved on to new longings, this time, for a place. It was New York City, and I had to have it. Not that the man wasn’t good enough, but Abraham Maslow’s hierarchy of needs kept popping back into my mind. I have always been aware of being a late bloomer, having fought long and hard for #1 and 2. He states on the pyramid of the 5 basic human needs, that if one is missing or left unfulfilled, a person cannot move onto the next.

Abraham Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs

Number 1. Biological and physiological needs — air, food, drink, shelter, warmth, and sleep.

Number 2. Our need for safety and shelter.

Number 3. Love. and The Need to Belong.

Number 4. Esteem. needs, like reputation and recognition,

Number 5. Self-actualization, where the person has a desire “to become everything they are capable of becoming”

For the first 40 years of my life, I had remained stuck between 2 and 3. New York was my number 4 & 5 and. I would have it at any cost. Nothing could have stopped me the day I called Martin. and said” I can’t come back to the south, you have to find a job up here. “ I set out to finally make something out of the second half of my life, even if I may just be raising a successful child. I planted the seeds of my affection and carefully tended to them, watering and pruning.

At 52, I find myself in a place that I hardly recognize. I let go of my old self in increments, letting go of youthful ideas of what I thought important to me. I’ve moved over for my daughter. It’s her turn, and age needs to move over to lead with reason and maturity. This doesn’t mean that I have let go of my dreams, but I do find that there is increasingly less time for their restless pursuits. Moments of depression have followed. This is the second death.

Hope

Covid and quarantine brought a stillness over life and offered time to reflect and regroup dreams and goals, and even time to implement them. The old passions rise up inside of me again, and I feel alive. I wake up to see the white light from the snow glowing through my window, outlining him as he stands in the kitchen in his flannel pajama pants and old Bobs burger’s T-shirt. The one I bought all. of us for Christmas three years ago for our. annual Matching holiday jammies. He hands me a cup of coffee as I walk by, and gently kisses me on the cheek. I return to the warmth of my covers and wait for my day to begin.

.