𝐈𝐓'𝐒 𝐈𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐂 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 Dolly Walsh came in when she did, and it may just be that she marked a turning point in Rowan's life--where the way she saw things had completely flipped from something she hadn't the slightest clue about, to maybe something she could understand one day.
For her first major assignment, Rowan had to interview a writer, Dolly Walsh, about her memoir regarding the way that grief and love shape us as we descend into aging life. She sets down a tape recorder on the glass table between them and sits up straight.
Dolly was a tall woman with an almost skeletal structure. She was well into her fifties, from what Rowan understood, but her skin looked warm and timeless. She was fashionable, to say the least, wearing a pink pantsuit and white heels--colors so contrastingly beautiful against the burgundy undertones of her complexion. Dolly crosses one leg over the other and smiles at the girl. "Whenever you're ready sweetheart."
"In your book, you moved to New York from Dublin when you were in your late twenties. You said it was in search of a new life. You thought the city would change you and open up a new world. But you later write that you were trying to escape yourself the whole time and that moving had nothing to do with the way you lived your life. How did you figure that out? And what was it like to realize that?"
"Well, first and foremost, it takes a therapist," Dolly laughs. "But I think I began to understand that I was my own biggest problem when things kicked off right away once I got here, and I was the most miserable I had ever been. No matter how much money I was making. No matter how many columns I was given, it was never enough. I was never happy. Every day, I went home to an empty apartment, and instead of pouring myself a glass of wine and putting on my slippers, I wished that there was someone there to come home to, and then opened my work right back up. I had absolutely no separation from work life to home life. I drowned myself in my work to distract myself from the fact that I was so incredibly lonely in this ginormous city. Now, I'm not saying that a husband or a wife is the immediate fix because it's not. But I started to wonder if I'd be happier if I had someone to pull me away from work. If I had someone to love me the way I wanted to be loved."
"How do you think the love of others impacts the way we feel about ourselves? Do you think that we base our own personal value on how many people say that they love us every day?"
"In a way, yes. I think that humans do that. Is that to say that it is healthy? No, of course, not. There are countless things humans do every day that are not healthy, but we continue them anyway. Because it is routine. People, more often than not, crave routine. Routine is good, I will admit. But solely relying on one way of life and only the people that assist you in this routine is not. Then you're not living a life, you're merely following a schedule like a robot," Dolly explains. "It's important to understand the differences between things like these. Routine is good. Having complete dependence is not. Being loved by others is good. But it is not the most important love or relationship to have in the world. The love and relationship that you form with yourself is."
"You also write that young love is simpler. It's either one way or another. What complicates love as people get older? What makes the complexities and the pain of this love so addicting to people?"
"Desire, to say the least. I think people spend more time worrying about if other people view them as lovable than if they think they are lovable themselves. If other people view you as an easy person to love, more people will find themselves drawn to you. If people talk about how hard it is to love you and how cruel you are, it draws people back. If everyone stopped worrying about that, imagine how great everything would be. But people don't, which makes it hard. What makes it so complicated has everything to do with lust in my opinion, and wanting to be interesting to other people. Nobody is really themselves in their twenties and thirties. Once you lose sight of who you are as an individual, it's hard to find that person again because you crumpled them up so small, made them feel worthless, and threw them in the back of your mind."
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𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐬 | 𝐚𝐝𝐚𝐦 𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐬
Fanfiction"Tell me to stay and I will." He thinks for a long moment. If we were meant to stay in one place forever, we'd have roots rather than legs. "I think you should go," he says finally.
