The other day, I ate probably six pieces of Dove chocolate, one after another, like an actual chocolate vacuum. I barely took the time to get the wrapper off, even less read them. Most of them were boring anyhow, but I appreciated these two, especially as I was trying to tape that second one back together.
It’s tough and it’s tiring when you go it alone
I learned about wiring, I learned about stone
The building is done but the work’s never through
And I won’t give up, no how, it reminds me of who I am and where I am now
I remember myself, that’s the work that I do – Dar Williams, This is Not the House That Pain Built
I’m a sucker for ceremony.
I know, it surprises me too. I’m the kid who almost got suspended in high school for holding up sarcastic signs during a pep rally; I don’t seem like the type to cry over Pomp and Circumstance. Alas, give me heartfelt speeches and slideshows of memories and I will show you what it looks like to stoically attempt to pull back tears before they spill over. When my sister graduated from UNC, I cried during an a cappella version of Carolina in My Mind.
My dream as a kid was to be an Olympic roller skater.
Never mind that roller skating isn’t in the Olympics — that was a small obstacle to my ten-year-old brain. Childhood felt powerless, with everyone making all of the decisions for me as I was pulled along for the ride, willing or not. But adulthood, man, that was going to be the jam. My vision of being a grown up had no room for tiny details like my dream not existing — in my head, the future molded to me.
The last few years have been a long-distance marathon away from a pick-your-poison selection of darknesses. The state of being me felt unrelenting and impossible to bear — In my mind, I was not running towards anything better, I was just running away. I was plumb out of fight, so all that was left was a panicked flight to keep the shadows behind me — hard to do when you’re not necessarily setting the sun as your destination.
Therapy is meant to be a safe place. Maybe the safest a lot of people have ever known. It is a place that absorbs all the scary and big stuff until you’re ready to slowly walk back out with the parts you need. That is a lot of laughs, tears, shame, frustration, and fear.
When I woke up the morning of March 28, 2018, I knew it was the day my life would irrevocably change.