it's summer 2009 and I'm sitting secretly with a boyfriend no one knew I was seeing. the electric throngs of my anxiety seem to be chasing me all summer. sadly our clandestine relationship isn't as romantic as I had hoped. I lay on his green ugly couch and feel the soft drunk of wine flow over me.
I'm worried what other people will say if they knew me and A got back together. unfortunately everyone in the tristate knows our story. I can't shake my feelings for him, but I also can't bear to handle the scorn of everyone I know because I redacted my first decision to leave.
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| fuzzy wine days. |
I listen to the new Animal Collective album, still sticky from taking one too many smoke breaks outside in the blistering heat.
"Am I really all the things that are outside of me?"
The song Taste comes on and I feel a wash of hotter than usual anxiety slam into me. perhaps a precognitive glimpse of what was yet to come.
I begin to wonder why I am so worried about what everyone else thinks? I'm too preoccupied with the ideas of everyone else. a painful moment of realizing how much I cared for what everyone else thought, and about all my things.
A and I talk and decide to send off the ultimate We Don't Care and start to publicly see each other again. both aware of our horrible mistakes--we realize that at that blip in time there was a moment when we really needed each other. the one time I did the opposite action for myself, determined not to let others get in my way.
I broke the surly grip of dwelling too much about the thoughts of others just that one time. sadly, I was still unaware of how many deeper problems I had yet to face.
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this is my therapy group and a place that I've called home for 3-5 hours a day for the past month. it's heartbreaking to let them go, but a necessary evil to make sure we are as open as possible.
I'd roll in late, perhaps in sweatpants or the same pair of jeans 3 days in a row, my hair in all its unwashed glory pied up in a bun on top of my head and slicked back with my (now signature) green headband.
and I'd see all these people who have bared their soul in this horribly lit room. partners well versed on the subject of depression and anxiety.
I'm handed my paperwork for my exit interview, and it's slammed in my face that this I my last day. a stark reminder that my safe haven has only been temporary.
prepare for rapid decent into the real world.
I spend my time in therapy slowly formulating the last few words I will speak to my group. the two hours seem to fly by and I'm sitting there waiting for my turn to speak.
a small lull falls within the conversation and i interject with my parting thoughts for the group:
today is my last day, and I wish to say I am cured, but you all know that is something we can't wake up and control, but I'm better. I spent the last few weeks learning about myself, and you may think of me as the girl that ran through starbucks multiple times trying to make the wrong drink order to help with approval seeking behavior.
but what I've learned was much larger than that. I've been able to strip away my worries about what other people think, and strip away the idea of trying to impress them.
I've ordered wrong drinks at Starbucks and listened to Taylor Swift. I've worn ugg boots in public because I felt like it. shit, I haven't washed my hair in three weeks.
I had to look inward and learn I really knew nothing about myself and my core values, and from there I had to build. and for those that have a poor sense of self that's what I recommend doing. learning to radically accept you don't know what you are, and then trying to change it.
my therapist then looks at me, jotting down notes on his paper, and asks, "so, what is important to you?"
family and love is important to me. as well as justice and honestly.
and I cried. more like sobbing really and then it was over. I had a few people give me hugs afterward, and that was kinda weird. I had to brace myself to actually touching people I had only talked to. a small reminder of the things I have yet to overcome.
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I download bjork's new album on iTunes, actually downloading music seems strangely foreign to me. I load the music onto my iPhone and pack up 7 milk bottles for their return to Giant Eagle.
I watch trin as he methodically keeps a hold of Rae on one hip and locks the door with his free hand. I see the men pouring concrete down the street and we load up in the car. I feel euphoric--my world seems much clearer than my ramshackle husk of a life I was leading before group therapy.
I feel stripped and naked and clean from what weight tied me down once before. it's a gloriously cloudy day and I had to re-learn how to download iTunes music. how humbling. I'm blissfully aware I'm not out of the woods with my depression and maladaptive thinking, but I've made a large dent in the issues that have been pestering me.
Trin plugs my iPhone in and Bjork's new album Vulnicura blares through my cars speakers.
I am a glowing shining rocket, returning home as I enter. the atmosphere I burn off, layer by layer.
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and I think about the past and all the moments and glimpses and fleeting thoughts leading up to now. I feel Trin place his hand on my thigh. I try to erase fixation on the past and guessing what is going to happen in the future.
this is now. this is what I have become.
I'm taking this all off layer by layer. my therapist refuses to call them "baby steps" he has concluded that these are giant leaps for me. I'm rapidly changing, and I don't want to stop.
because I'll never be who I am again. we are changing from moment to moment, but I feel myself accelerating as I brace for impact to returning to real life.
welcome to the now.
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