The Inner Madwoman

I’ve been reading a book called Burnout by Nagoski and Nagoski.


burnout.jpgburnout.jpg

My counselor recommended it and I do, too, even though I’m not finished with it yet.

There were lots of bits I earmarked and underlined in the early pages, but what really nabbed me was the discussion of the inner madwoman.

I’m paraphrasing but the idea is that we all have an inner madwoman, who lives in the attic (our minds); she is the bridge between who we are and who we think we are supposed to be. She says and does all the things we don’t dare.

There is an exercise in the book where we are supposed to describe our inner madwoman. I realized mine is much like Aughra, from the Jim Henson movie, The Dark Crystal.


Preach it, Sister.Preach it, Sister.

Preach it, Sister.

I wrote about my IA (Inner Aughra) in my dream journal as it seemed the most fitting place. I found a wiki on a fan site for the movie and they describe Aughra as being one with nature, having been birthed ‘to give voice to the stones and eyes to the forest’.

My IA is slightly insane.

I’ll be driving along and she suggests I say or do something that would, without a moment’s hesitation, get me committed to the nearest mental health facility. She tells me to give all sorts of people varying levels of verbal retorts that would get me into hot water, suggesting I’ll feel so much better if I let it all out.

Yes, I likely would: but the world wouldn’t be the better for it.

IA doesn’t understand why I don’t spend money to change back to my maiden name; after all, she figures, I have no true hold to what gave me either of my last names anyway since both partners are on the other side of the Rainbow Bridge. I’ve thought of it, sure. But my son would have no connection to me at all if I did that and I would have no connection to Christopher if I did that. And while I am disconnected from them both — one by choice and the other by the mystery of life and death — I am not liking the idea of what seems to me to be giving up.

IA is the one who fights in my dreams; she throws wild, roundhouse punches and is her own version of a super woman. Nothing stands in her way.

IA mumbles behind my epiglottis as I wash dishes in the wee hours of the morning, saying all the things to all the people that I’d never say out loud. I imaging she makes that face (the one up there) when I won’t actually say those things.

She’s been quite active of late as I feel more alone than I have in a while. My brain is too busy, trying to figure it all out. It’s likely the mortality of pain that brings her on more strongly.

There is one thing that IA and I have agreed on though, and that’s something I plan to start doing when I turn 60. I want to travel to various places around the world. I want to go to Marrakesh, to Egypt, to India, to Australia, to China, to France, to Rome, to various Pacific Islands. I found that AAA has a travel site dedicated to trips for women and several of the packages are for places I want to go. I know they have people who can create travel packages as well.

I wonder if IA will be visible when I get a passport photo taken …

Only time will tell.

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