Tough little smile,
Tough little thoughts,
Tough little tears,
Tough little heart. Lovely little skin,
Lovely little smile,
Lovely little thoughts,
Lovely little tears,
Lovely little heart.
Longing little skin,
Longing little smile,
Longing little thoughts,
Longing little tears,
Longing little heart.
Lonely little skin,
Lonely little smile,
Lonely little thoughts,
Lonely little tears,
Lonely little heart. Shedding little skin,
Shedding little smile,
Shedding little thoughts,
Shedding little tears,
Shedding little heart.
Empty little smile,
Empty little thoughts,
Empty little tears,
Empty little heart.
Fragile little skin,
Fragile little Smile,
Fragile little thoughts,
Fragile little tears,
Fragile little heart.
I realize that these pictures may be super gross to some of you, and possibly super interesting to the rest of you. I have never given much thought to the idea that certain animals moult, but recently I have become fascinated with it. I wrote this poem when I was in a very confused and depressed place, which I seem to be coming out of. But because I didn't want anyone to worry, I held off posting this poem until my mind was at peace. For about the past two months, I believe that I have been moulting. Yes, I did just say that, but just stay with me for a few more minutes. I think it is a perfectly natural phenomenon experienced by humans emotionally and animals physiologically.
I had my 29th birthday about 2 months ago, which I wasn't particularly nervous or excited about. My sweet boyfriend celebrated with me before he went out of town for a five week gig, and I threw myself a small birthday dinner on my actual birthday. And then, like some crazy stereotypical clockwork, I began to wig out. I blamed it on switching my birth control, on my boyfriend being out of town, on my boyfriend not being the right guy for me, on catering to "the living rich" while being "the living poor" and on hating New York. But none of those worries previously had conjured up the intense emotional shift I suddenly began experiencing. Overnight, I was unsatisfied with my life. I was sick of my boyish clothes, of being a starving artist and I became obsessed with the fear that I was not a part of an actual "adult" relationship. I could feel myself outgrowing my current life, and it felt as though I did not have any control over the change I was experiencing.
On a desperate Tuesday morning, I began to write this poem at my favorite place in New York, The Heather Garden. It is located in Fort Tryon Park, a place so beautiful and inspiring to me, it has become a place of refuge and sanctuary. It is never crowded, it is always peaceful, and my spot overlooking the Hudson and G.W. bridge is always open for me. Upon finishing "The Shedding," and rereading the rather emo words, I randomly began to think of a snake and how a snake sheds its former self quite naturally, so it can grow. And with much relief, I realized that that was exactly what I was feeling emotionally. I was shedding my "girlhood" and mourning the loss of it. At the same time, I was feeling scared about my future, and the realization that the time had come for me to really become a woman.
What I learned about moulting, was so important to me because it made me feel as though what I was experiencing was completely natural. For humans, it's called a mid-life crisis. For spiders, snakes, lizards and hermit crabs, its called moulting. And because I am not quite mid-life, nor do I want the negative connotation, I'm likening myself to a maturing female spider instead. Just so you know, I am writing this with a smile on my face, because I know it sounds kind-of ridiculous, even though it is a perfect explanation for how I feel.
This whole change began with me becoming very anti-social. I convinced myself that I was just getting in a fare dose of "alone time," but truly I was distancing myself from the outside world. I also decided to eat a vegan, no preservatives, gluten-free diet, at this same time, which didn't seem to be connected in any way. However, when I looked up moulting, I saw that in arachnids, they often become reclusive and fast for a long period of time before a moult. Once the old self is shed, the spider's new body is vulnerable and fragile for a short time, so it can grow to it's new potential. When all of the possible growth has occurred for this stage of the spider's life, then the new exoskeleton will harden. The other fascinating fact to me was that male spiders tend to mature quickly and have less moults in the course of its life time, whereas female spiders moult more and consequently grow larger than male spiders before she reaches full maturity.
This experience has reminded me that I am connected to every living thing on this planet, and sometimes the answers to life's questions are found when looking to our ancestors in nature. Now that I feel kindred and absolutely empathic with female spiders, I just might live a bit more happily alongside them in my house. But as for fruit flies, I will murder those bitches any day.
