You have to slip before you can fall
Take a chance before you can crawl.
You have to walk before you can run.
And that’s where I got stuck on that poem. Another one of those I start in the back of my head as I’m watching TV or doing the dishes, and it feels so fucking perfect I can’t stand it, describing every guttural feeling I have in that very moment. But, later when I finally go write it down I realize how empty the words suddenly feel. And it comes out like terrible glam rock lyrics.
I’m not good at writing on demand. I once sent a pitch to a big publication and recieved back a request to write it for a decent sum of money. That was THREE years ago. I just freeze up the second I feel like I have to write. People often tell me that with practice, that gets better. But, I’ve been practicing writing since I could hold a pen, writing stories and in journals since I was not much older, and writing freelance for the last four years… and it has definitely not gotten better.
I was thinking about trying to explain how rebellious I am against any authority. And how that’s one part of what I liked about Judaism. Getting to choose for myself what authority I was under. But then I had Lana Del Ray’s Fucked My Way Up to the Top stuck in a loop in my mind. Only that one line. Mostly it sticks with me because I’ve never fucked my up to the top anything. I have no career, per say. Just a lot of jobs, of which I am more or less the boss.
And I’ve never fucked my way up to the top of social standing nor any other endevour. I mean, obviously. Or I did a really shitty job of it and would be too enbarrassed to admit it. But, that’s not the case.
Sorry, it’s after 8:30pm and before midnight, so my brain is essentially asleep right now. Later, I’ll shake my head in embarrassment of my own words. But, for now I’m just enjoying the bliss of exhaustion.
Someone once told me I had a serious problem with authority. Like it was a bad thing. It hurt because it was true, but more so because of how it was said. Like a deeply personal insult flung at my open heart. I think of it still nearly 20 years later with mixed emotion.
I have a serious problem with authority.I do. But, at the risk of being too honest, life teaches us lessons to prepare us for the future. And my lessons have all been about the lack of trust one can put in authority.
I always thought I would outgrow my suspicious, cynical, defense mechanisms, but I have not. Though I am better at managing them. I’m good at appearing like an open book, but I hold back a lot of my heart.
This struggle I have pushes many people away. Which, I suppose, is part if the idea. People who aren’t close can’t hurt me. For the rest of the poor suckers who stick around, they have to deal with my constant mood swings. Nothing unnerves me like someone being close. I want it so badly, but nearly every moment of it hurts. So I push them away. Ignore them. Pretend I don’t give a shit what they think. Later, I apologize and smother them with love. It’s a dysfunction I simply don’t know how to fix.
A lot of things have happened over the last few years of my life to bring out these issues I have.
Last Shabbat we were invited to lunch at a friends house. Now, first you gotta understand–these are fantastic people. Just really good people. And the food is delicious. Everything about this visit was perfect, but there I sat in my seat struggling with basic conversation. I actually apologized to my hostess for being such a quiet guest.
I’ve become to closely knit with people in my community and suddenly this thing has happened in our lives which has caused me in particular to feel extraordinarily unstable. The reality is I am scared to be close to people here. So those who mean the most to me often are met with a lack of warmth. And for that I feel terrible.
I don’t know where I’m going with this. Normally a post like this would be saved for my private journaling. But, I am under a certain pressure to meet today’s NaBloPoMo post. So, here it is. Public.
Nobody wants to be able to trust more than I do. And yet I don’t. Ever. Not for a moment. And if I catch myself relying on anything or anyone, I break away from it. I’m a much saner person on my own. But, you know, lonelier too.
God this is so depressing! So I will tell you a funny-ish story. My two year old can’t ever remember his own name when you ask him. He just freezes and then starts saying other people’s names. And I want to say, dude it is
same name every time. Come on! But, eventually he remembers. And then he laughs. And we laugh too. And it’s funny.
The things which are hardest to conquer in life are our own hang ups.