22 Nov

When I was a little girl, I was petrified of dragonflies. They were so big and scary, and always seemed to head straight for my eyes. I spent summers terrified of those giant bugs. To a 4 year old, they’re rather large.

One day my father held a dazed dragonfly in his hands-it was nearing the end of summer, the days were cooler, and it was obvious it was dying. “Look!” he said “It’s beautiful! And you’ve been scared silly of it this whole time. They’re so gentle, and it won’t hurt you. There’s nothing to be afraid of!”

It was green and blue and lovely. It’s wings were delicate, and perfect. It was a harmless, beautiful creature.


I do grieve for the mothers I will never have. I grieve for the moments I have lost, twice. I grieve for the person I have never had the chance to become. There are days when I want to scream at the world that it’s a fucker, and I want what’s mine. I want a mother. I want someone in my life who will let me be a little girl, who will allow me to be delicate and beautiful. I grieve for the little girl who has never really had her mother, who has needed to forge a path in motherhood out of make believe, words and air. I grieve for what my mother’s have lost, for what they shall never have.

I shouldn’t be angry, and I am. I should get over it, and get past it, but something prevents me. Something holds me in thrall to this, to wanting to know who I am, and why I am so rejectable. Why every person who’s been in my life will eventually reject me somehow. I should move past all of this and allow the few people who do allow me in their life to hold me there. But I distrust even them. I await their scorn.

My biological family never wanted me. They likely still don’t, only feeling guilt towards me, some sense of “make it right”. I’ve spent my life feeling rejected and never wanted, and have always wondered how much of that originates in that initial rejection, some knowledge that the arms that held me were not the ones meant to hold me, some vague inkling of the breasts drying up, unused. I’ve always sat in corners, trying to blend away.

I don’t want to be angry, or sad, or upset by this. I just want it to disappear, to be away, to have never happened. To be someone else’s story. I want someone else to be broken, and I want my life to be disgustingly easy and well adjusted.

I want what I cannot have. And always will.


Awhile back, Vivian and I found an incredible saphirre blue dragonfly, dead on the ground. It was perfect. She picked it up gently, examining it, petting it.

“It’s so pretty Mommy. But he’s dead and it’s sad.”

We set him lightly on the grass, to be eaten and carried away as we all are, eventually.

She wasn’t ever scared. Not even for a second.

3 Responses to “Dragonfly”

  1. Kimberly November 22, 2006 at 7:05 pm #

    “If you cannot get rid of the family skeleton, you may as well make it dance”.
    (George Bernard Shaw)
    Irish dramatist & socialist (1856 – 1950)

  2. puddlejumper November 23, 2006 at 6:45 am #

    Hey mate,

    Won’t pretend I have any idea how it must be for you. But from your posts you sound like you’re making a damn good job of being a mum.



  1. Solidly Average » You Said It - June 4, 2007

    […] came across this post over at Vomit Comit and thought for a moment I’d written […]

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