Innocence and Experience

I'm trying to learn not to under-estimate and I haven't under-estimated how difficult that can be.

Yesterday I took my six-year-old son to see 'His Dark Materials' Part 1 at our local theatre. If you've never read Philip Pullman's trilogy you have denied yourself of a wonderful and potentially life-changing experience. In short, Pullman has rewritten Milton's 'Paradise Lost' with a modern many-worlds slant. It is utter brilliance and all about whether you should choose to Fall: to choose experience over innocence. The consumer information was that the play was suitable for 11 and over. So I felt a little concerned when I took a six-year-old. However, he sat in rapt attention for the whole of the matinee performance. Then I asked him whether he wanted to wait for the evening performance of Part 2 so he could see how it finished? This would mean a further three hours (on top of three hours of matinee). The worst part being that it was the last night of the run, the performance was fully sold out and we'd have to wait until 7pm (his bedtime) before finding out whether we'd get seats. He told me, quite simply, 'what's the point in only seeing half of it?' and I had to concur. We queued, we got tickets, we sat through a wonderful play and I left feeling that I was proud that I hadn't under-estimated my son.

Right now I'm trying not to under-estimate myself too. After years of not applying for promotions at work I applied for one this week. I have had real issues about my motivation for doing this and if it is merely vanity as I've had quite a few senior management check whether I've applied, and they've told me that I'd be perfect for it. However, I'm not sure I am. I'm quite chaotic and no matter how many times people tell me that organisation is just a matter of writing lists and then crossing things off, I've been on this planet long enough to know that I'm the sort of person who forgets to write the list or loses it five minutes after writing it. The worst part is I think the other candidate is amazing and that they'll give her the job and I don't want to cope with the rejection. I've had enough rejection recently and I don't desire any more. I'd rather not try than fail.

But, I'm pretty far away from innocence these days and my path over the past year has been one of experience. Maybe I ought to learn the lessons of the past and try not to under-estimate myself.

The post-birth world

I've been reading a book for months that I don't much enjoy: it's called 'The Post-Birthday World' by Lionel Shriver. The premise is that it is about a woman who makes a momentous decision on a birthday and then the book splits into two and we see her life unfurl in two ways: if she says 'yes' that day or if she says 'no'. Today, February 1st is an important birthday for me as it's my sister's birthday (aka 'anonymous' on this blog), it is also the anniversary of my ex moving into his flat.

Yesterday I visited one of my most loved friends and the one whose life was most similar to mine. We are pretty much the same height, have the same degree, are both aspirant writers (though she is far more successful - deservedly), our husbands have the same name, we married them within a few months of each other, both of us have step-children the same age and our first boys were born 6 months apart. So far, so alike. Visiting her is to see what might have happened if my ex and I were happier together: she now has three utterly beautiful children of her own and a husband. Whereas, I am a single mother to one boy and have all but lost contact with my step-son.

But, I do know that this is a life path that fits me better. Whilst you are never supposed to admit this I am pleased I only had one child. Society's scorn is heaped upon women who choose a life of indulgence and never have kids, but, in my experience, women who choose to have only children are treated with equal suspicion. We are seen as both spoiling our only child whilst depriving them of siblings. I remember clearly at post-natal checkups the health visitor blethering away about how 'it would be different with my second'. I did not dare tell her that I didn't want a second. I absolutely loathed being pregnant: I was sick constantly for six months. When my son arrived I resented sleepless nights and exhaustion. My ex was very little help: as I breastfed our son for a year he saw it an an excuse to not really do much to help. My ex cited my refusal to have more kids as a reason our marriage failed, but I believe that it would have failed far faster had I been chucking up constantly whilst running around after a toddler. Additionally, he might have earnt double what I did but he still expected me to pay all the bills (even the entire mortgage!) so I would have had to go back to work early. I love my son dearly but I've never once, even momentarily, wanted another child.

Visiting my friend has shown me how wonderful having a large family is: her kids are joyous. I've always been obsessed by different choices, the reading at my wedding was 'The Road not Taken' by Robert Frost as that is my favourite poem. I've blogged before about my interest in the parallel world theory of physics. It might have been my ex's choice to take the road out of my life on my sister's birthday in 2008 but I do believe that it was the very best path for me. But my heart swells with gladness that my friend's life took the other path so that I can enjoy seeing that other post-birth world.

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference

Feeling supersonic, give me gin and tonic

I doubt you need a refresher on quantum mechanics, but here's one. Nils Bohr's quantum theory suggested that as matter behaves differently at the quantum level that we had to 'look' at the matter for it to behave as expected in our world. Hugh Everett III's many-world theory gets around the idea that it appears that at the quantum level matter behaves oddly (it exists in two places at once; freaky) and he suggested the many-worlds interpretation. Basically, Everett suggests that whenever we come to an important decision another parallel universe is created where the choice we chose not to take is followed. So, you go to Dorothy Perkins, remember your bank balance and don't buy the gorgeous frock. Everett would suggest in a parallel Universe another you buys the frock, goes out, parties and maybe ends up marrying the lead singer of a major 80s band such as Duran Duran. Bet you wish you'd bought the frock now, don't you?

So, somewhere in a parallel universe there is another me whose husband didn't leave at the beginning of February. Last night she would have eaten pasta & pesto alone in front of the TV and then snoozed on the sofa. At 2am she would have run up the stairs to bed at the sound of his key in the back door to avoid a fight. Meanwhile, her colleagues would be out celebrating the end of term.

But, I don't live in that Universe because my husband did leave. And so, last night was another milestone. I went to a staff do. This is a big deal (although not enough of a big deal to warrant random capitalisation). I had a blast and behaved fairly disgracefully. I admitted a wholly inappropriate crush to a colleague. I did bum-to-bum dancing whilst pouting with mates. My mini-me friend and I decided that even though there are 12 years between us we were going speed-dating whilst pretending to be sisters because that would make us hotter. For some reason my mate and I ordered about 7 taxis which never arrived so we commandeered a lift to town with a faculty leader's boyfriend. Who we've never met before. I snogged a completely random stranger who is about a decade younger than me in a club. I didn't get to bed before 4am. At one point a kid who I used to teach asked me if I was stoned (no, I wasn't) but I did suggest that the state I was in could be aptly summed up by these Oasis lyrics:

I need to be myself

I can't be no one else

I'm feeling supersonic

Give me gin and tonic

Actually, I didn't need any more gin and tonic because it appears that I was a major factor in the bar running out of gin. No, really. Anyway, I'm glad I live in my supersonic Universe and I feel really sorry for the alternative me in a parallel Universe who is probably having an argument with an alternative ex-husband right now. But, I have to say I'm quite jealous of the other alternative me who once picked a dress that I rejected and is now Mrs le Bon. Well? I can dream.

A game: please (anonymously, if you wish) tell me what an alternative version of you is doing in a parallel universe. This must be based on a decision you made and where the flip-side might have ended up. Go on, it'll be fun - and you can post anonymously!