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+--- Thread: + Iconoclast + My Imagination+ (/showthread.php?tid=49808)
+ Iconoclast + My Imagination+ - FemmeIcon - 02-21-2026
But I don't wanna think about it now
I know I won't get out if I fall in
So I don't want to think about it now
It's dark in my imagination.
“So what does the end look like for you Elizabeth?”
++The end. My fingerprint was on the pulse. Over the years it went from “when is enough, enough?” to “The end”. Meanwhile I found myself standing, admiring my profile in the mirror. Studying the laugh lines and the crows feet. I gently passed my finger tip over my black matte lips and smirked++
“I don’t know what it looks like, what’s more, how did we arrive at this moment?”
“We were discussing Annika, you not wanting her to fall into the same pitfalls. You were worried that the business would have a negative effect on her. So I ask again, what does the end look like for you now that the second generation of your Dynasty has made her American debut? Have you considered it?”
++I looked back at my reflection and inhaled sharply then turned on my heels++
Elizabeth: How can one predict the end of anything? The consensus would say I’ve had my time and I need to step aside so that my daughter has a fair chance at forging her own destiny. I disagree.
Dr. Bonita: Why do you disagree?
Elizabeth: Because I can’t just step aside, distance myself from her trajectory of course, but step aside? No. I know it’s selfish, but the end has nipped close too many times and I’m dead set on just bowing out gracefully and giving up a spot that I bled, sweat, cried and suffered for. I walked miles through hell, feet bleeding and cut from jagged rocks, just to get back to form. I endured levels of hell unimaginable to get back what others stole from me. Forgive my feelings of justification for doing what the collective said I could not.
Dr. Bonita: Elizabeth, you know by now all feelings are valid in this space. Sit down, talk this out with me. I come from a place solely concerned for your greater health, not just your mental wellness…
++She gestured to a chair across from her. All these years and the sessions never got easier. Always burying the threat, dissuading myself from facing them head on. I took a seat, crossing my legs and rolling my ankle in my Louboutins. I closed my eyes, averting from hers, and exhaled sharply++
Elizabeth: I’ve run so many scenarios in my head, trying to decipher how I will know it’s time to step back. What would “done” look like? How would it sound? No matter how many scenarios and how much time, it is always a resounding blank. At my age I should be looking to slow down, switch to the other side of the camera. I’m forty two. Truth be told, the grand collective agree, I’m too old for this shit. The shelf life of women in this industry is always pre-determined. Once the looks and figure fade, times up, fuck off. In a perfect world I would be training the next generation, making use of the knowledge and wisdom I’ve accumulated. My truth? That’s boring. Sure it makes sense, but it isn’t what I want.
Dr. Bonita: Then what DO you want? What does Elizabeth see fit?
Elizabeth: I want to go out with grand applause. I want to take my final bow to the sound of admiration and egoism. A quiet exit doesn’t appeal to me. Mind you I don’t want to take ANYTHING away from my daughters career. I don’t expect her to be me. I don’t demand anything from her. I just want to see her grow and watch the natural path she takes, there only to protect her from the wolves and the opportunists.
Dr. Bonita: In your own words, you yourself are an opportunist, does that mean protecting her from your own bad habits?
Elizabeth: Sinner. Whore. Bitch. Murderer. I’ve worn many masks in my lifetime. I’ve been the sexualized object and the scorned lover. I’ve been the best friend and the betrayer. It’s a delicate balance when it comes to trying not to fuck up Annika. I know in all reality I’m my own worst critic and enemy, so yes. I guess in a twisted sense of things, that means protecting her from myself. Everything comes with extremes when it comes to me. There is no cruise control. If someone were to hurt her, I’m not sure how I would respond. Where does one draw the line? Do I let her fight her own battles or do I let Mama Bear out? Do I defend her in times where I wished someone would have stood beside me and helped me fight?
++I waved my hand dismissingly and nervously shifted in the plush chair. Outside the sky was radiant with hues of orange and purples as the winter day crept to a close. My hand twitched, I needed a smoke. Normally by now I would have ended the session and ran to the car to light up. Something kept me going on. Deep down in the recesses of my soul, it beckoned me to stay “a little while longer”. I could feel myself moving towards the edge of the chair, but then she hit me with a hard truth that I was too sober and not high enough to handle++
Dr. Bonita: It sounds like you are using your daughter as a means to justify your inability to put a name or face to the end of your career.
++My head snapped around and glared. We met eye to eye. She knew. I knew. The hourly rate was about to go up++
Elizabeth: Why is MY career such a frequent talking point? What indicates so much that I need to fathom it now?!
Dr. Bonita: Your health. You’re on shots and injections. Cryotherapy and water therapy. You know your doctor shares their reports with me. You can’t expect to keep going on unhindered at this rate. The end is real and possible. It is something you need to realistically accept.
++Silence. I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees and scanned the room. I knew the end was real and substantial, but I was not quite in the acceptance mode. Her words burned a hole in my brain as I sat wringing my hands, fidgeting with my wedding band. Staring at the hardwood floor I hissed++
Elizabeth: I’ll accept it when I’m damn good and ready. I have not achieved all I feel I could nor have I restored those certain things stolen from me. Time. It waits for no one. Not even me. You don’t need to tell me about my physical health. I deal with it everyday. While the seizures are under control, in the back of my mind I know I will still have them. Long nights of outbursts, and not remembering any of it. The pain is constant, but I can still go and I will not let anyone tell me differently. This is my legacy.
Dr. Bonita: Don’t you want to be able bodied for your daughter? Your husband? Have you stopped to consider the effect that your decision to continue may have on them? You aren’t a young woman anymore, you aren’t invincible, very much the opposite.
Apathy: I can love my daughter and husband, even if I end up in a wheelchair. And they will love me just the same. I wish I could explain this in a way you understood. No matter how many times I’ve tried, I always miss the mark. I either say too much and over complicate or I don’t do it justice.
Dr. Bonita: Tell me in YOUR way…
++I stood up, walking to the floor to ceiling windows and pressed my palms against it, lowering my head and breathing in deep through my nostrils. My stiletto nails taped rhythmically on the glass. As I gathered my thoughts I scratched my nails against the pane++
Elizabeth: Eoin and I have had that talk. What if? What next? There’s contingencies of course, but the general feeling is no matter what happens, we stay the course. On our wedding night I vowed to him that I would stay until the casket drops. He now says the same. He wants for nobody but me. I’ve sat with Annika, explained to her what I’ve been dealing with these past few years. It hurts her heart but she understands. I’ve had this conversation before and they support me. I hate it…I fucking hate it!! The industry came at such a high cost. The patriarchy gave me six months before I washed out. I’ve been shoving it in their faces for twenty years. A wiser woman would calculate the cost and make a better decision but this is MINE.
The only thing that I ever truly had. It’s not just for me. I owe it to every girl I ever worked with. I owe it to every colleague and friend whose funeral I’ve attended. I owe it to every internet geek that shit canned me because I wasn’t hot anymore. A lot drives me to keep pushing forward, striking out and keeping my name in their mouths. I’m sure you would disapprove but I signed up for a tournament. Right out the gate I’m in a match with two paragons of the industry and my name is up on the marquee with them. Mine. Win or lose a whole other community is now familiar with who I am. They will learn what I am about. Peers who were only familiar with me in passing will be thrust face first. I thrive on that bullshit. I’m addicted to it. My name is the only thing that is truly mine and I want it as far out there as possible. I will whore my name until my dying breath, because goddamnit I built it on my own, from nothing and it’s the most valuable worldly good I own. It matters!
++Silence. Time seemed to stand still. My fists were balled. Tears streamed down my face. I felt shame and disgust wash over me like toxic shock. My nostrils flared as my chest heaved, desperate for a breath. I could feel the mask cracking under the weight of so many hats. Mother. Wife. Legend. Veteran. Victim. Survivor. Too many roles, not enough time. My nails dug deep into the palms, crushing under the weight of rage and hurt. My eyes darted to her reflection, seething++
Elizabeth: Why can’t I have just a LITTLE more fucking time so I can actually wrestle WITH my daughter for a bit before it’s off to pitt and pendulum. Let me tag just a few more times with Eoin before it’s old yeller? One more damn trip around the sun for my career before I fucking fade out and I burn out? After everything, all of it, the mistakes made, lies told, hearts broken, loss and surviving don’t I FUCKING DESERVE THAT?! Why can’t Annika have her own career, I keep mine and whatever happens happens? What’s so bad about choosing to live? No matter what I do, stay, go, yes, no, hell I could give up vaping right fucking now and it still won’t change that one day I am going to wake up and I won’t recognize either of the two most important people in my life.
I owe her a legacy worth inheriting. This…risking it all, as stupid as it is, is the only way I know how to give that to her. Eoin wishes deep down in the well of his soul that I would walk away. He wants to enjoy his marriage and I’m taking that away from him. Annika wants to bond with her mother and this, the very fucking thing that ruined me, is the only way I know how to, without giving up my addiction. I fucking hate it. I hate myself but at the same time I’m pissed off that all I keep hearing anymore is “when”. You can’t ask a woman to give up her entire identity and not expect push back.
I can’t bargain with death so let me put all my hopes on time…
((Not how short I intended, but a regular doctors visit, turned into an emergency procedure in outpatient at 730am. That went fine. Then I got home and fell asleep the rest of Thurs, into Friday. I’m so appreciative of ya’ll including me. Sorry I couldn’t give you both the effort you deserved))