Hey. Happy snowday ish thingy if you are somewhere that’s getting it. I am, so hi. I started out the day with a tremendous wipe out on the freezing cold sidewalk, so to say that things are a bit bleak right now….
But alas, writing to you guys always lifts my spirits, so here goes nothing…
I’ve always had difficulty describing the feeling that I have when I try to express myself to another human. It’s that moment just after the words come out of my mouth and just before that human reacts, or perhaps it is as they begin to react. Truthfully, there is often not enough time, before I feel all the feelings, for me to read their reaction and so the feeling that I have is truly mine and mine alone. It’s clear to me that their reaction will color my ultimate feelings, the finale, if you will, but that bit hasn’t arrived yet. I’m at the before; the anticipatory moments that come entirely from my heart and my brain.
Well, I suppose that description isn’t entirely correct. My reactions come from a place in me where my experience lives. All the sadness, disappointment, anger, excitement, and regret are stored in this cavernous place deep inside of me. Sometimes I marvel at the depth of that pit. It’s a Mary Poppins bag sort of space. I’ve made that reference before I know. Mostly because that is one of my favorite movies, but also because that particular detail always thrilled me.
Imagine having a space, a vessel or bag or compartment, that looks so entirely average on the outside but is entirely magical on the inside. It’s really fucking fantastic on its own, but when you metaphorically compare it to the human psyche and soul, it becomes something different altogether. When you consider the notion that someone could look so together and so well-maintained on the outside and have a vast, swirling pot of mess on the inside, its rather staggering. Where I am concerned, this has always been a thought that is altogether amazing and also, horrifying.
The terrifying part of that imagery is that I’ve been that person and I’ve also been friends with, related to, and romantically involved with those sorts of people. If I’m entirely honest, I don’t know if being or knowing that person scares me more. It’s hard to say really.
I know it seems like we’ve gotten a bit off track here, but we haven’t. I mean, you should know better by now. I can be verbose, but I usually tie all the bits and parts together at some point. We do stay on topic, even if I have a roundabout way of doing so. Mostly it’s because I want to explore all the different elements that make up the thing I am exploring. I have this feeling that you can’t really understand anything entirely and eventually conquer it (the most important part, perhaps) unless you come at it from every angle. And so, here we are, the Mary Poppins bag of emotions.
I was watching something the other day (I know, incredibly descriptive but I cannot remember what the fuck it was) and there was some discussion about how we never allow ourselves to say we are ‘okay.’ We are good. We are fine. We are great. We are horrible. We rarely say okay. I say okay. I say it all the time now, but I didn’t always say it. I used to hesitate. I used to say I was good when I wasn’t or I used to say I was awful and then caveat or explain the awfulness away. Sometimes that explanation would make it nicer and sometimes I would provide an overly generous, and entirely unsolicited, justification for my feelings. There was something about being okay that felt uncomfortable. It made me uncomfortable and I imagined it making others uncomfortable.
Then one day, I realized that it was accurate and honest. That was the day that I decided I would keep being truthful, even when it got squirmy. Even when people around me wanted to look away or back away or end the conversation. I make a decision that I was going to own how I felt. That didn’t mean telling everyone all the things. Not even a little. It just meant that I didn’t have to make something more when it was just what it was….okay.
I’ve been okay a good deal lately. I have moments where I’m great and times when I’m shitty, but overall, I’m okay. I’m the kind of okay that recognizes the shambled state of the world, my frustration with certain parts of my life, and a deep and abiding appreciation for all the good stuff I have. Bully for me, eh? I can put on my big girl pants and let an ‘I’m okay’ hang out there in the universe.
Sometimes when I put my ‘okay-ness’ out into the world I get inquisitive looks in return. Occasionally I sense a deeper kind of curiosity or even read a little frustration, but mostly, when it’s one of MY people, they are okay with my being okay. It’s a beautiful thing. In some ways, my expression of ‘okay’ is yet another test of who I have surrounding me. My circle. My crew. Outside of this being some massive ‘atta girl’, where am I going with this? Well, if I’m okay being okay, why am I not okay with telling people how I feel about things? Why do I struggle with asking questions that bubble to the surface of my brain? Why do I have that moment after I text my truth or speak it where I just can’t breathe?
Is it because it is SO different? Nope. It’s not. It is because it feels like there is more to lose. When I’m okay, someone may want to beg out of a conversation or avoid me for a period of time. It’s unlikely that they will walk away altogether. Not impossible, but improbable. However, the speaking of my full truth is a different story. In some fashion, saying that I’m okay is abstinence. It is the absence of an explanation. It is also perfectly suited to my personality. I don’t need to explain anything further. I don’t need to reveal something I’m not comfortable with and I don’t need to talk about something before I’m comfortable. But, I also get to speak in a very frank manner about how I am. I don’t need to white wash or hide it. I’m okay means I’m status quo. It might mean I have some shit going on but I’m managing. It could mean that I’m not doing my best at juggling all these emotional balls in the air, but I’m committed to sorting it out. It just means I’m as down the middle as one can get. You feel me?
When I speak a truth outside of that descriptor, when I ask a question or make a statement, I’m tipping the scales a bit. I’m showing my hand. I’m making myself vulnerable. I am opening myself up to judgment, criticism, or retreat. With that in mind, why the hell would I do that? Well, you know why. Don’t make me say it.
Because we are on the path to worthy. Come on people. When we are on the path, we do all the things that make us feel uncomfortable because we are committed to our growth. Our pain and embarrassment are not for naught. We are meant to learn. To do better. To be better.
Now get out there and make a snow angel.
L.
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