I think I’ve just always been able to feel the changes in me. Like a tree can feel another ring forming. Another year. Like the puncturing needle when you’re getting a new tattoo.
It’s painful. Always feeling the growth, the change. It feels like nothing is ever constant, like there is no stability, no predictability to anything. Is it ADHD? Or some other mental state that can be “cured” with a pill? Would I want to?
I can also feel the moon, the trees, the grass growing when I listen closely.
It felt like if I could feel myself growing it was because I was listening. it felt real. I had needed to change so often in my life, having things like favorites, or making sweeping statements about myself (or anything) felt like an untruth. Do I actually absolutely love purple above all colors, or had I just decided so because the sheer excitement of so many colors always stimulating me -because isn’t! life! beautiful!– caused too much discover in my head. I had to try and ignore all the other colors so that I could remember that I was waiting for a bus or that I had to look both ways before crossing the street or had I drunk any water that day. Well I mean it sounds silly when you write it out loud like that. But it is unfortunate, let me tell you.
Even so, I wanted to do so many things. There were so many things I wanted to try, but civilization doesn’t like when you start a lot of new things. They like for you to pick one huge thing, that one thing for the rest of your life, and stick to it. And you have to know your fate at the age of 18 and the longest commitment to anything you’ve known has been puberty and school.
Granted my generation has it easier, I still questioned myself. There were so many things I wanted to be a part of, to see, but I was worried. If I didnt do it for the rest of my life, was that “flaky”? Was I just very undecided?
So I tried deciding on some things and it worked, for the most part. And always knowing I could, if I really wanted to, change my mind depending on new information. Because it also seems limiting to decide to believe one thing and then never ever try and question it, since we never know what new information could come to us. The world may change radically and we may experience emotions or learn “new” facts that we never thought possible. Learning commitment was important, but to people, not concepts.
At the same time though, it’s been like a peeling, or a pulling back of layers. Not like a banana, where you throw away the peel after, but like an onion where you use all the layers to make delicious soup after. Because every layer of myself counted, and learning that was comforting.
And coming to France, it was a kind of unbecoming. There’s a lot of different processes that happen when you travel, or move to a new place, or are truly alone for the first time in quite along time, and I was all three of those things at once. Adding the spice of culture shock, and…well…It all made for a hearty soup.
And so I let myself unbecome, it was once again losing the stability that I had come to find in the things that I had surrounded myself with for comfort.
And I have found a much stronger voice. A much more clear path in life. Some of you have been here to share it with me, to witness it through one way or another. Many, many of you have supported me in different ways.
I am still and might always be a seeker of joy, and someone with something to say. The methods of both those things remaining in flux.
I have engulfed myself in art. Finding that I am content immersed in it, that it is my one true passion and form of total freedom, followed tightly after by roller derby. I try to learn to listen better. I try to speak softer. But I paint louder and sing deeper.
I’m listening though.
And painting. And singing. And skating.
And I’ve got a whole bunch of new stories to tell, if you want to keep listening.
All my love,