I'm a little early for that time of year when I get sentimental and want to show it. Most of the time I wear heavy armor and feel comfortable keeping distance with people except a chosen few. The truth is I'm a romantic at heart. I'm a softy for the feel goods and I want the underdog to win. I also painstakingly try to heal the past or find myself closing the circle of the year during the holidays; I think we all do in our own way.
The longest, darkest night has a way of calling out to your personal shadows. The past week felt low and I heard the sentiment reflected in many others. I needed something to pick me up. I sense Christmas coming towards me like a bumbling giant. I feel the earth shake as the season enters and this year, I resolved to meet it with a smile and maybe try to be prepared. So I put my tree up today. I put a piece of joy into our space and let my gals sing song the moment into their memories. For me it was more about rearranging and having another light source in my front room. It's just has lights, no ornaments, and I put the white owl on top so it feels like something wise is watching over us.
I like to think I'm growing kinder with each passing year. Kinder to myself, kinder to the energy I put forth in this world. I've come to appreciate happiness is magic I can make. Also when it is darkest, we all have to find and create our own light and do it for others when they just can't light their own way. I've been finding joy in those sweet passing moments that make me feel good.
In my youth, I got really good and intimate with feeling low and blaming others. I have a bestie who taught me to make my own happiness. Really just recently, I've come to understand the power in that. Also the magnetism of spreading joy to others.
That's not to say it's all puppy dogs and kittens over here. I like a good honest chat one-on-one, and the ability to pick apart something in the underbelly of my life that I would like to change. I get super turned off by the always #blessed sort but I dig what they're trying to muster for themselves and their loved ones. It just indicates to me that I'm not at their inner table. I can NOT be at most people's inner table. I assume many of my good friends might not know they're at mine because of how private I am.
The inner table is set for those you can really trust with the good and the bad. I like to laugh with others but I can also be dark as hell. I also like to bear witness to vulnerability. The truth is though, I can hold the space but I can't mirror the work because I am so scared of myself. I am the underdog; even with all the privilege I have, I come in second place most every time. That's the story I've been telling myself since I was a child and it's stifled most every phase of my life. Me: horribly hard and unrelentingly unforgiving to myself - it's how I learned to survive.
I've been feeling mostly alone lately, mostly responsible for the child in my childhood since I'm basically orphaned now. As a parent, I see how isolated I became at a young age and how easy it was for me to put on a uniform and go out into the world I was being raised in and check the boxes.
A friend sent some college photos and I looked back on the girl I used to be. I asked D, "would you date her?" He said, "What girl?" at the zoomed in picture. We had a good laugh but the truth about it stung. Not D's candor but perhaps the honest moment with myself that the image stirred up in me. All that armor, all those ways to hide my beauty and potential, to not face myself, to pretend I was getting by so I could actually get by. The girl in that photo had escaped an unhappy home and was relieved to be far away. But she wasn't free enough to go be alive in herself and her experiences. She was stifled always and scared deeply.
It prompted me to dig through some old emails and reread my youthful voice. There was a back and forth with an old friend over a few years. It was mostly banter and sorting out life in your mid-twenties. I couldn't stand some of the words I put out there as armor, as flirting, as a way to connect. Though I know they were coming mostly from jest and lack of self confidence, they were harsh and not really what I wanted to say. The truth is I never thought I was good enough and I valued this person more than myself. I always felt like the fat girl without a chance. I was too scared to see the opportunity that might have been there and so I didn't take any chances and let the moment pass. I regret that now because the years have helped me understand that mentality is bullshit.
It took me well into my 40s to muster enough courage to put some of these old fears to rest. It took the caring love and support of a good partner to help me see true value in my being. It also took me giving myself the space and respect I so readily threw away before. I've made peace with many things I never thought I would settle and I regret a few moments I never risked. I guess that's who I am in some ways, seemingly brave and courageous, secretly a chickenshit unable to recognize when others care and just want to be there for me.
Twenty years from now I will be in my sixties wishing I was 40 something again, wishing I was here right now. I imagine the waning vibrance that I am feeling these days will feel like a fire hose of life that has long since left my bones. I will still be writing. I will not forget the joy I've learned to kindle for myself and to spread to others. If all else fails, I will reach out to friends to remind me of these moments that are fleeting but forever part of my story. It all comes down to me.
I'm going to go tuck those gals into bed. One day, they will be twenty-somethings themselves, far away from me forging their own path and hopefully finding some grace.
