It’s half past one in the morning, the end of Kill The Natives and Feast On It Day, and I just got done smushing leftover nachos in our panini maker so I figured I’d come to chat about something that’s been on my mind a few days.
We're at the beach at the moment actually, glamping, and it’s a place important to me for a lot of reasons but mostly I think for how much I’ve been through here.
For a lot of years, before I came out, before I had a grasp on who I want to be, before I started to spitefully and combatively grab ahold of my confidence, I was a periodically broody and emotional person, which really showed itself near the water I think.
I think in years passed I’ve cried, at some point, during every camping trip.
Call it the weight of the huge secret I had in my chest, extra heavy in the confined space of those most important to me, or call it the negative ions from the ocean being a therapeutic device that always started with a purging—honestly it’s probably both.
Now this isn’t to say I’m not still a moody little goblin sometimes and that I don’t still cry far too easily, because I absolutely am and do.
But the past couple weeks, or even I’d reckon so far as to say the last couple months, I feel like I’ve felt my emotions the strongest they’ve ever been.
The good and the bad, because the universe will always be balanced.
But I feel lighter lately. I dance and I‘ve started to work out and found I enjoy it. I’ve finally picked up my guitar and I just make up collections of notes I do ‘t even know how to name.
I used to feel empty a lot. Like I was trying so hard to pull away from my surroundings, to protect myself against the eventual separation I thought was coming, that I started to pull away from myself. Which, when you’re still growing and trying to find yourself, or at least who you want to become, is a bit of a shit thing.
I felt muted, I think. Like I was happy at times, even a lot of the time really, but not to the full extent. And I felt overborne with anxiety pretty regularly for a while, but between that was just these hollow feeling periods.
And the past few months I’ve felt a lot of things, like raw and vulnerable and apprehensive. Angry and almost indignant, as a few people reached the time limit they had in my life. And then safe and giddy and exuberant. Grateful, most often I think. I say a lot of thanks for my life and the good people I have in it.
I’m coaxing in my courage, my bravery, with affirmations and gentle hands. But on days when I’m too fed up with feeling bad I grab those two things by the scruff and I force them by my side, actively and stubbornly forcing confidence into my chest for the day. And it’s tiring, it’s a tiring thing to keep on top of, to be consistent and unrelenting with. Especially seeing as I’m the only one who can actually make it happen but I’m always the one I’m fighting against.
But it’s important and it’s worth it.
The other day I applied for a job, had my first interview. And it was nerve-wracking, but I didn’t feel like I couldn’t breathe. I didn’t feel like I was dying the whole time I was talking to the lady, and now I’m sitting in wait for the results with a knowledge that I tried. And even to be honest—I don’t think I did badly.
So time will tell and I will see. But I’ve done what I can control. And whatever outside forces decide is not my responsibility.
But cracking a window so I don’t overheat in my Hogwarts pants, I can smell the beach air, and I can see the trees off yonder. And when last year I felt lonely surrounded by the people who love me most, I feel so full this year, and so connected.
I’m turning a Life Page, maybe starting a chapter. If not right now then soon. But I’m not scared. I don’t feel scared, and I definitely don’t feel apathetic. I feel ready. I feel almost excited. And I feel pretty lucky.
xxx,
cm
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