I am the best at disappearing. I can suffer any which way as long as I don't have to be in the same vicinity with who or what's bothering me. I have made a career out of disappearing, though not a full-on run to another city, another state, another country (oh how I envy those that have). I've left people, jobs, apartments, awkward situations, all for the hope of peace.
Lately, as I have been peeling away at the emotional build-up that's been wreaking havoc on my life (you let a little thing like that shock run your life for two years and the clean up is incredible), I've noticed that running away isn't so alluring. Sometimes I stand my ground. Sometimes I even manage to stick up for myself. Often, I speak up about something that's bothering me. And, when I've exhausted every possibility and the effort of being in the same space as the miserable thing I've endured is too much, I walk away.
And, in some cases, you have to walk away. There's nothing better to do than walk away.
I hailed this summer at its onset as The Summer of Getting Unstuck. Perhaps it would have been better named The Summer of Walking Away.
I have said goodbye to Siena, the cafe, that place that had been my constant, the one place in the world that wasn't ever going to change, no matter what crazy shit was going on in my life, no matter that I had moved twelve times since working there, it was always going to be there. And then it got sold and changed and now it is not the same place I knew, the place that literally has been the font of nearly my entire life. Losing that place was the beginning of this alteration, this transformation, this awakening.
I let go of the needless, reckless acquaintances and the worry of what they would think of my disappearance. All those barflies, of whom I was a part, don't miss me, don't worry for me, and if they do, I cannot exert effort into pleasing them any longer. They will carry on, holding court and judging all. I could and can no longer participate. They were a strange part of my life, it was a comfort at times, truly, despite their bitterness and nastiness, they helped me see I was not alone, that I wasn't the only one who wanted to kill the incessant thinking, the tireless observations, the weary and alarming ability to be so very aware of everything. I drank to try to be normal, and they were my companions.
To be rid of her, and those of her ilk, the ones who need more assurances than there are to give, who care not for a single beat of someone else's heart or mind, I am feeling both exhausted from stopping (you never notice how tiring someone can be until you are away from them) and thrilled at being free. I will try not to let them ensnare me again, despite the fact that I can be kind and giving and loving (to not be because of them would just be another kind of prison) and I am just the sort of person they latch onto and drain.
Then there is me, the physical being that walks about in the world. I have lost myself in that shock, gotten lazy with myself and my actions, let myself fade. In finding myself again, the hair is coming back, the body is coming back, the smile is coming back, I see that I have grown, changed, become something new, suddenly I am a woman and no longer a girl, no longer able to disguise myself as anything but a woman, unable to hide in the fashions of younger women and girls. I am pleased to see her, the woman I have always been, at least in my mind, a somewhat attractive, slightly sophisticated, mostly put together woman.
As I lose weight, I will lose favor among those who call me their friend. As I begin to dress up differently (no longer needing to wear the worn clothes and scruffy outfits for the cafe), I will find objections from them. As I emerge, I have a feeling there will be many other things and people that I will have to shed from my life. I can already see it, the disparity, and it hurts a little, I want to hang on mightily to all that I love and even hold the scraps of that misguided love shined in my direction, but if anything, I've learned that growing up is not about disappearing, it's about following your feet.
No comments:
Post a Comment