The Shape of Responsibility
Yesterday I talked about how I savor my freedom, and the independence I have gained that means I can do whatever I want to do. But you mustn’t think that the responsibilities I have tie me down or restrain me from that freedom. Instead, they define me and give me purpose in life that propels me forward. If I had no responsibility at all I’m not sure what would motivate me to keep going... but that’s unlikely to ever happen, so I don’t worry about it.
Responsibility is not a burden. To go back to my road trip analogy of yesterday’s post, I could get into the car and go anywhere I jolly well wanted to. But why? Without any responsibilities, I have no impetus to go anywhere. Instead, I get up in the morning, grumble without rancor about having to leave the house, drink my coffee, kiss my husband, and go turn on the car. Then, I drive to work. My job brings in income, income pays the bills and buys groceries and pays for the kids to go to college. I have responsibilities, and they structure my life. Even when the kids are out on their own, I will still have reasons to go to work every morning.
Let’s say, for the sake of wild imagination, that I were single. I’d still have bills, rent, etcetera etcetera. So work and earning money is still a necessary evil. I might need less money, but still. If it’s just me? It’s a lot less to worry about. But I’d have a cat. Or three. And houseplants that would need heat to survive the winter, and small things that needed me to keep going and working and moving in life.
It’s funny the things we take on as responsibility. Me, for instance. Even if I didn’t need to write - which I don’t, except as a mental release valve - I’d still feel an obligation to fans who want me to finish certain series (yes. No, I have no idea how long it will take). My art is about the only thing I do out of sheer self-interest. I have a mint plant at T’office, and the poor thing has aphids. I’ve been fussing over it when I go there for my lunchtime from the day job. Gave it a bath in soapy water and we will see. It’s a plant. But I’m responsible for it.
That’s why we have a dog, actually. The First Reader was against the dog. But it came into the house, and it wasn’t his dog. He didn’t feed it, he didn’t seek it’s attention (but who can resist a puppy when it’s asking for love?). The only thing he did because no one else would, was walk the dog. The dog decided he was Her Person. And then the First Reader moved away on his own, leaving the dog - who was Not His - behind. Only... she stopped eating, and playing, and grieved. Then the person who ‘owned’ her had to move, and couldn’t take the dog. So he offered my First Reader (who was not yet mine) the choice of taking the dog, or she’d go to the pound. The First Reader brought the dog home. She’s spoiled rotten, gentle readers. But she is our responsibility - because yes, I took her on just like I took him into my heart. They are not a ‘pick one’ option. So we have a dog. And the dog is part of the First Reader’s shape.
Our reponsibilities form us. My shape includes my children, while they are still under my care. The First Reader knew this, just like I knew he came with dog. I was shaped like me, plus kids, plus school, plus... all the other cares I was going to be sharing with him. My responsibilities don’t bind me, unless you mean in the way that yarn knitted into intricate shapes is greater than the skein. Every knot, every tie, all come together in a precise form. From shapeless wool comes a sweater, a scarf, a silly doll...
From fleece to yarn to intricate object.