Karen
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As I was collecting my daughter from the childminder today, another parent complimented me on my necklace, which is like the one in the photo below (you can buy it here if you like).
“Oh, this witchy one?” I replied, “my friend bought it for me when I turned 40.”
“Are you a witch?” The other parent asked. She didn’t ask with any judgement, no smirk on her face, just a genuine question asked as simply as if she was asking the time. I took it as a kind of spirituality based question if anything.
I stumbled over my reply a little bit, and what came from my mouth was surprising – to me.
“I think I would be, if I could break away from society’s expectations.”
What?
Why would I say that? It isn’t how I feel and it wasn’t a ‘regular-person’ thing to say.
But the whole interaction really gave me food for thought. And the more I toyed with it, the more I thought about my knee-jerk response, and the clearer things became in my own mind.
I think I responded like that because no, I’m not a witch but yes, I am… ‘something else’. I think that my life has changed beyond recognition over the last 18 months and I’m not really sure who I am now. How does one categorise oneself when their world has been turned on its head? How do you describe yourself when you’re everything and nothing at the same time? I’m a woman approaching her mid-forties and the person I was just two years ago is a million light years away now.
Am I a witch? No, I wouldn’t say so. I just like the moon.
Do I find peace and solace in observing the cycles of the moon, in nature, in spending time outside? Yes, absolutely. I think if I had to stick a faith based post-it label on my head it would probably say ‘Pagan-ish’. I make ‘potions’ as far as my aromatherapy practice goes, so there’s that. And yeah, some days I wouldn’t say no to an elongated period of solitude in a little wooden house in the woods. I’m left handed and epileptic – both of which would’ve got me tried as a witch in days gone by, but sadly I cannot conjure spells or bring back what is gone, and I don’t even own a broom…
Because I think far too much about practically every conversation I ever have, I pondered on my comments about society. What does a young widow do? Who is she? How does she behave? When does she break down and when does she pull herself back together? How does she parent now? How many parents *is* she? And actually – those questions have no answers. Nobody knows. Of course, the benefit of having no correct answer is that there must also be no incorrect one either. So that gives me something to work with, I guess.
I don’t believe that anyone without the unfortunate label of being a widow will truly understand my thoughts here, but I know there are far too many people who will.
How does society see me now? I know it isn’t the same as before. I’m reminded of that every time I get the look of pity, the sad smile, the fractured conversation, the awkward hello from acquaintances in the local Tesco. And for the most part, I don’t even mind. People care, and I’m sure it’s a bit of a strange situation to be suddenly face to face with someone your kid once went to a sports class with, knowing their whole world has crumbled since you last met.
The more I pondered, the more I realised that it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter one iota how anyone sees me, apart from my own children. It wouldn’t matter if I did class myself as a witch, or a hippie, or some other thing that isn’t run-of-the-mill.
What I reminded myself of was the fact that I have an opportunity that wasn’t extended to Ted – that isn’t extended to enough good people. I’m 43. I might get to 53 or maybe even 83, who knows? The point is that I don’t know how much time I have, so why am I reserving my true self for ‘one day’. I joke with my kids about being older – I told my teens I’d be buying a camper van and living my best life on the road when the little kids were older. What am I waiting for?
Today’s conversation – nay, brief exchange – sent me away with a lot to think about. Ted’s been gone almost 17 months. Maybe it’s time I gave some serious thought to who this person is that he left behind.
