Sybil's Entry Point

There is a bunch of stuff swirling around in my head that needs letting out - problem is that I can't seem to find an "entry point". I took a writing seminar a while back from a pleasantly "out-there" type person who constantly talked about "entry points". I didn't quite get it then. That somewhat stout, late middle-aged black woman in a turban, spoke soothingly about free floating with our pens until we found (Eureka!!) an entry point that allowed us to tell our story. I remember telling her about one of my childhood (and still appearing) flying dreams. You know the ones.......in mine I start to run and as I pump my legs faster I start to lift off the ground until I am way up in the sky and everyone else below are now ants. Good, good she told me - enter your story from the dream...........huh?

Well, I tried and I did get some writing done in the workshop in spite of my continual search for the elusive entry point. But now, 2 years later, I think that I get it. An entry point allows the rest of the story to unfold. It simply is where you start. You know how when you have too much to do you "don't know where to start" and some wise person tells you to just start somewhere; that is where I am. So here goes:

My husband was a fake. This really shouldn't be news to me but it is. I had heard these exact words two years ago from my sister-in-law in her attempt to help me weather the first shock waves of a "suddenly departing for the monastery" husband of 25 years. But just like the learning curve of the "entry point" point, it has taken me a while to really get it. My husband (ex) has lived several different lives in which he apparently was pretty much different people in each one. I was party to the straight-laced, every mother's dream, suburban success story life. What came before and what has come after bear little resemblance to each other. Multiple Personality Disorder. That is the label thrown out for discussion.

Is there really such a thing in real life? Isn't that some rare, slightly creepy syndrome involving someone named "Sybil"?

Moreover, how did I live quite a happy life with such a person for the better part of 2 decades? Says something about me too doesn't it?

So, this is my entry point to a whole different perspective on the life I have led so far. The one that got me to Paris. The one that now goes forward without a script.

Comments

[Stacy]

Your ex really did become a different person. We left Thanksgiving that year wondering who was that guy? We do miss Thanksgivings at your house though, even with your ex. We always had a great time! : )