I had a fabulously hilarious post planned, all about my ability to trip over the un-trip-overable (really!) but as the evening’s worn on and I haven’t written it and haven’t written it, it’s dawned on me that I’m blocked because I have other things bubbling away in my heart. Until I write the words and hurts churning somewhere, within the tar and starshine, the ‘funny’ is just going to stay pinned to the walls of my mind.
I think most of the content of my heart right now is mulling over how easily it is to love, and how much caring can hurt, but that not-loving isn’t an option (because LOVE). In this day and age it’s easy to love across huge distances, and on the odd occasion that kind of love can give you (me, anyway) a serious beating.
The main source of anxiety is my trip to Murica. It’s soon. SO soon. And I haven’t packed or finished sorting all the things out yet. But more the issue is the people who await me at the other end. Will they like me In Real? Will they find me too uptight; too goonish; too intense? Will their expectations of me be shattered and the reframe prove less flattering? Will I let them down?
My logic brain,, and a large number of concerned friends, say that it will all be fine – I will go and #BeReal and be ME and will discover that they like me anyway and are willing to accept that there are bound to be quirks and foibles unimaginable through the wires.
The dark side informs me that not only am I ridiculous, but that all my fears are well-founded, and that I might very well find myself on the receiving end of cool glances and cold shoulders as my people realise just how mistaken they were about me, and decide to find someone else to try to bring the glitter to their worlds (even though I am actually going to bring glitter to their worlds, but shh, don’t tell!).
I vacillate between the two sides of the argument; eddying around and around until all I can see is a never-ending whirlpool of inadequacy and hope. I even dreamed that I was pinned to a wall with a javelin through my stomach, whilst all my American friends were stood around watching in confusion as I tried to free myself, and began to laugh at my futile attempts to get free. So there’s that.
I’ve already managed to mess things up. And yes, perhaps with a trip so big it’s almost inevitable that there will be mess-ups, but I should* at least have found a way to keep track so I don’t end up appearing cavalier with people’s time. Especially when those people are making time in their Real Lives to see me and look after me. Especially when I care about them so deeply. You would think I could be slightly more ept and capable of not hurting them due to my inability to honour that. Alas, you would be sorely mistaken.
[Sub-plot – I do think I’m probably trying to cram too many people in, which is as wonderful as it is painful. Because at every turn I’m beginning to resent the time lost 1-to-1, and simultaneously the opportunities lost to meet MORE people. It’s absolutely a double-edged sword, double-dipped in very best bittersweet.]
My World Between the Wires is going to become In Real, and that presents a snaggletoothed set of problems:
I know me, and I know my friendships, and I know the way I love.
There are going to be those who I will meet, and hold close, and memories will be made forever. We will laugh and joke and our eyes will sparkle and we will learn the sound of each others voices when not ‘performing’, and get to know the shape and height of the other, and how they look when sun and shadow mingle across their skin. They will be bright, light moments of sheer enjoyment and we will adore them and bask in their glory.
Then there are going to be those who I will meet, and hold close, and the imprint of their spirit will sear itself into my soul for all time. We will laugh and joke and our eyes will sparkle and we will learn the way the fire burns within the other, and what makes our heartbeats quicken. We will discover a bigger picture of the weft and wend of each others character and fibres will tangle together irretrievably. We will get to know the sound of each others voices and the echo of each others thoughts, and the way we look when we glow with happiness. We will get to know the shape and height and scent of each other, and the press of skin to skin. We will get to know the diamond-bright delight of the joy of this moment shining in their face, and the haunting, quiet spectre of future pain lurking in their eyes.
And there’s the final thing – the ugliest, wailing tar-baby in the melting-pot of my heart right now – the goodbyes.
I briefly considered calling the entire thing off just to avoid the pain of those goodbyes. Some will be cheerful, wonder-filled, fireworky moments of celebration that the meeting and time-spending was so good. Others will be regretful, downcast moments because the meeting was so wonderful that the contrast is achingly sad, though none of the good will be any less good in the face of it; just that the sadness will take precedent.
And there are a couple** of goodbyes which are going to feel as though I’ve had a limb ripped out at the socket.
Quite apart from spurring me onward to write and submit and earn moremoremore so I can afford to go back and reattach myself to the piece of my soul which will seem forever missing thenceforth, the contemplation of such pain is dizzying, unexpectedly sharpburny, and something which I think I always knew would leave me in a million pieces.
My developing philosophy of KintsugiLife*** suggests that the broken places are where gold can be poured in, and that each hurt allows a fixing, which is stronger and more beautiful than the original, unblemished version.
As I think ahead to the coal-black, diamond-spun moments when I see the final flash of the backs of their heads as they leave me, these Ones; I wonder how I’m going to be able to hold back tears to not dampen the moment of meeting the next person…and how the hell I’m going to be able to pour gold into dust.
Little wonder I can’t write ‘funny’ right now.
*writing about this soon, and here am using the word with full cognition of its impropriety
**not a specific ‘two’
***Another thing I’m going to write soon…it should be a good one