A final post on US soil (maybe)

Tuesday. 21 July. 2.55pm.

At home it is Wednesday, 22 July, 4.55am.

Tomorrow begins the journey home. By 8 am I will have left Lauren and the Constitution Inn in an Uber bound for Boston’s South Station Bus Terminal. At 10 am I will be on a Greyhound Bus bound for New York’s 42nd Street Port Authority Terminal. I will catch either a yellow cab or the shuttle to JFK Airport.

I fly out at 6.45 pm. A two and a quarter hour stop over in LA and then to Sydney.

I arrive at Kingsford Smith at 7.40 am Friday, 24th July.

Train to Campbelltown to pick up Max and then home home.

I feel like it has been much longer than two weeks away from Australia. Much longer.

What a trip.

I have loved it.

And I have so many ideas for short stories; it has been interesting to note that I have started consciously thinking as a writer does. Every person, every conversation, every outing, every experience – fodder for stories.

I mentioned in one of my earlier blogs that I wrote two additional pieces after seeing/hearing Mary Badham on the 14th July.

I will post them below.

The first is a generic piece about the impact I perceive NY had on me at that point in time. The second is a little darker and highlights something that I need to now work on for myself (and I have commenced this process).

Number 1:

New York has revealed a potential for my life that I have never realised prior to now. The idea that there is more is something that I have always known. The reality that there is more is something that only New York has revealed to me.

A literary community. A world in change. Dreams being realised. This is the embodiment of NYC for me.

And I am completely clueless how I take that home with me and manifest it into a reality that is mine but that I feel so removed and disenfranchised from here; in a way that travel has never successfully achieved before. In the past I have always felt connected to ‘home’. Here, I question what home is.

I feel myself fundamentally changing and I wonder if I will ever be able to feel settled at home again. The potential of here is significant. I feel it in my core.

Number 2:

Content and language inappropriate for young people. Only read if over 18.

Longer Lasting Impact of Failed IVF

I don’t like myself.

I like the things that I do but I don’t like myself as a woman.

I’m a good person, a great person really. But I have no confidence in myself as a female.

Prior to IVF I was sexually confident and confident in my femininity. I’ve realized that’s gone. At first I thought it was because I was always so busy. And to some extent that is true. But really, the deeper issue is that I believe that I have failed as a woman.

The fundamental thing a woman should be able to do is reproduce. And I haven’t. And that failure has robbed me of my ability to regard myself as a confident sexual woman.

And that’s fucked.

I guess acknowledging it is the first step; connecting the pieces is helpful. And overwhelmingly sad.

As we age we seem to disappear as women. I thought this could be it too. But no, if I’m being honest, I don’t like myself. My body has failed me and so I don’t like it. There is a dead spot, a black hole, where the essence of me as a woman used to be.

It finished with the C word but for obvious reasons I have censored that here (sort of).

I will move deeper into this longer lasting impact later on, at home home. I choose not to delve into the darkness as I prepare to pack my suitcase. Time enough later on.

In case I don’t get to write again from here, I shall see you at home.

2 thoughts on “A final post on US soil (maybe)

  1. It’s been great reading about your adventures in the states. You’ve given me some real life experiences to read about and I very much look forward to discovering them as well. You are catching the same day/time flight I’ll be catching when returning Sept next year 😊

    Liked by 1 person

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