I feel a bit tired today. The same way I imagine you must be feeling after being pummeled by my emotional recounting of the early years. I’ve said this before and I’m going to say it again. I think it’s important that we revisit what’s gone on in our lives, not as a mechanism for triggering regret or getting us stuck, but to mindfully reflect and grow and move forward.
When I look back, there are times when I’m a bit angry with myself or frustrated, but I don’t allow myself to stay there. That is an exercise in futility. Nothing good would come of that endeavor. We have to be kind to ourselves as we move through these tough issues because it’s in that softness where we find our strength. Self-deprecation only leads to more bad decision making. I promise you that.
I remember the night that I met Mike. I had gone skiing with a camp friend. I use the term skiing loosely because as you know (if you’ve been paying attention), by that point in my life, I didn’t really ski anymore. It’s funny because as I type out these words, I now understand why Mike was so focused on me skiing. We met while at a ski lodge. Clearly, he believed me to be a skier of some kind. Rookie mistake. I can drink hot chocolate and avoid death defying winter activities like a fucking champ.
Anyway, he and his brother were sitting in the lobby of the hotel where we were staying. Like many hotels of its kind, it was dated and in desperate need of a facelift. And yet, no one seemed to care. Provided they knew the drink to bring you at dinner and had ample space to rest aching asses, it didn’t matter, at all. I suppose if you are part of the jet set crowd, you’d be more concerned with ambiance. Where we were concerned, it was a moot point. Where I was concerned (as the tagalong), it was a non-issue altogether.
Anyway, my girlfriend and I were wandering around, looking for something to do that presumably did not involve eating….again. We run into these two cute boys. Jason was the talker. He was gregarious, really. Wanted to know who we were and from whence we came and what our plans were for the extended weekend. Mike just sat and sort of brooded. He had this dark, thoughtful look on his face that should have automatically clued me into his level of intensity. Back then (and for many years thereafter), I was drawn to that personality, rather than repelled by it.
I think on some level, I recognized the attitude of a sign of intelligence and complexity. Right. Well, yeah, he was smart as shit, but also intense in a way that gave people (namely me) bellyaches. I didn’t know that or at least, I refused to see it at the time. I saw his long legs clad in jeans and perfectly coiffed hair and wide, wry smile. I heard the faintest trace of an accent. I noticed how carefully he chose his words, our interaction. I was transfixed.
Nothing really happened that weekend. We just all agreed to be friends. To be something. I loved little things, like his perfectly clean sneakers and sharp smelling cologne. I liked how he asked questions and then thoughtfully paused to reflect on my response. I liked how he made me feel like no one else in the room existed, or mattered. When I learned that he was from Staten Island, I was devastated, but he was undeterred. We would sort it out. We were going to be friends and he would see to that.
Our friendship turned to something more fairly quickly. Perhaps it was just the age and hormones or maybe it was mostly driven by our like desires to connect with another human. I was looking for all the things I explained to you already and he was looking for a life partner. You might imagine that those two elements aren’t exactly a recipe for a happy life.
You know that, right? Like even if he was a great fit for me, I was not in a good head space. I was needing something that existed outside of myself and he satisfied that requirement. Thus, I didn’t have to do any work to address or shift the mess that lived inside of me. What a fucking mess.
We talked, a lot. We got to know each other. He talked about his dream and aspirations and I told him often how impressive I thought he was. When I applied for college I applied to Cornell, not because I had any desire to go but because he wanted to go there. He hadn’t gotten in straight away but he knew he’d be accepted as a transfer student and therefore, it would be perfect. I even looked into some of the side programs that Cornell offered whereas the acceptance process was a little easier.
It was insane really, but the purest sign that I was willing to give up nearly anything to get to a place where I felt better. I was willing to bury my feelings about a place I would spend four years to feel better in the moment about my prospects. My prospects. That is literally a sentiment I pondered. What would become of me? How would I decide to live my life? Would I find someone to love me?
It didn’t help that unlike many others I knew, I had no fucking idea of what I wanted to do with my life. Not even the tiniest little inkling. This was before Google, mind you. There was no verb for letting an external source tell me what the fuck I should do with my life. And my delicious parents were supportive but wanted me to sort things out on my own. I knew I liked art and I figured I needed to make a living, so I went in that direction. I’ll be a medical illustrator or perhaps an art therapist. I had no idea what that meant at the time (I barely do now), but it sounded good.
That was exactly the problem. I stayed surface. I did. I played it safe. I didn’t really dig and ask myself who I wanted to be with (if anyone) and what I wanted to do with my life. What if I chose and then I couldn’t hack it? What if I wasn’t meant to do that thing that I had set my heart on? What if the person I wanted the most didn’t want me back at all? Too much risk for hurt and so it was easier to play it safe.
I dated someone who put me in a tiny little box (which would not be the last one I was squished into) and I applied to a college I didn’t want to attend and I planned a career that didn’t mean anything to me.
Let’s just sit on all of that for a couple of days.
Have an awesome weekend.
xo
thepathtoworthy.com 