“Losing the Plot”
I am losing the plot
I am grieving the end of superwoman-ing
I have laid down my cape
As though I haven’t risen like a phoenix from a thousand deaths
As though I haven’t been reborn to notice that my mission is not dead yet
Alanis Morissette – Losing the Plot
My daughters love Alanis Morrisette. She was an inspiration to them in the 90s. I was young enough to appreciate Jagged Little Pill too. Raw and honest, she gave us permission to be angry, to rage, to be crazy, to love, to stand up for ourselves.
Over the years we have gone to Alanis concerts together. We saw the musical Jagged Little Pill at the American Repertory Theater in Cambridge, MA, and again the first month it opened on Broadway. What an amazing pre-covid New York memory that is.
I have come to love adult Alanis. Her last album, Such Pretty Forks in the Road, contains mature female angst. The struggle of balancing family, work, joy, depression, anger…. The wide swings from ordinary, to extraordinary, to sadness, to madness, it is all there.
Adulting is hard. Finding balance between bliss and drudgery is maddening. Some days there is no time. Fear trips the scale toward unbearable, leading to avoidance. Awareness of mortality is a buzz kill.
Not much riding since fall. Weather, time, obligations, and avoidance are barriers. Most weekdays I do not visit Jigs. On a good day, I get to sneak to the barn at lunch and play treat dispenser. I rarely ride any longer. Some days we just walk.
For now, that must be enough.
The snow is melting and the mud will dry. Lessons start next week. We are signed up for clinics.
I sing along with with Alanis, “the fire is not out yet.”
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