Getting out of the house last weekend, I went up to CityWalk (immediately wondering what I was doing up there), and I saw all the noise, heard the bigness of the place. I walked in my own jetstream, disillusioned and strange, and I didn't recognize the place. Was it fun to visit once upon a time? Did it have a magic to it, like some of the other places I can't get around to revisiting? I distinctly remember thinking how lucky I was to have Universal Studios and Citywalk practically in my backyard. Maybe I was naive, holding on to a first impression the same way I remembered Hawaiian sunsets from my youth, the Vatican, family vacations, and a certain pair of brown eyes I fell into and never emerged from. Can you blame me? We hold on to our very first impression of something, but to see them with older eyes makes it hard to reconcile. Especially now.
Sometimes, unfortunately, the last impression is the thing we hold on to and hope to forget. We leave the experience behind us, and whether its solved or not, every now and then you cross paths with your past and even with perspective, it's an uncomfortable reminder of something wrong you have no power over. I've been really lucky this year to have had some huge mysteries of my life solved, but in the past few weeks, a reminder of a particularly helpless moment reappeared. Yep, while it might seem like I have it all together right now and optimism is the soundtrack of my life, I am still seen by some people in my past as strange and troublesome. Any simple conversation - even by email - is full of obvious politeness, an annoying attempt at walking on eggshells. I can see the look on this person's face again, as if she's talking to a mental patient, trying to play things safe to not arouse any uncontrollable emotions or reactions. It's crazy how obvious the behavior is, even now.
Flash back to many years ago, when at the end of a long, strange friendship, things blew up between one friend and I. One simple act on my part, nowhere near the level of rudeness I was on the receiving end of for years, caused the person to write me off completely, despite my efforts to reconcile and even accept much of the blame. I was in pain, felt misunderstood and alone, and in one group of friends, everything I did was highlighted as insane and wrong. And so it was, when I was able to spend time with these friends without the influence of this other person, they treated me with the same behavior I recently read: polite, detached words, non-committal and backtracking from the first syllable. It's kind of disgusting, and still a little embarrassing, but nowhere near as effective as it used to be. I have had two experiences in my life where I was in pain and the people closest to me abandoned and shunned me. Thanks to them, thanks to the people who never listened or gave me a second chance, I've become strong and independent, quiet about what's going on inside. I know better now. You have friends, and then you have the friends who are connected to you, heart to heart. In that respect, I'm so unbelievably lucky.
I have two people I can always call, and I stay in touch constantly. I have two more who will always help, and I'm spending Thanksgiving with them. I have a family who works hard at maintaining contact, at listening to nuances in my voice and would drop everything if they felt I needed them. So what do you think? Do I set myself apart from the world as the tainted, problematic person some people once saw me as? No. They gave up on me. Whether they gave up on me before we broke off contact or they simply cut me off without any explanation, it's the same exact unapproachable void. On my own shore of this sea of nothingness, I can look back and rather than attach blame, I can simply remember that I offered love, was rejected, and with time I learned to give that love to others. That is the last impression I want to hold on to, hopefully with a little wisdom and pride intact.
Can you blame me for relying on good memories to propel me forward? As much as I am able to remember the ugly moments, and am reminded even when I choose not to, nothing I tell you will replace listening to Space Oddity with the sunroof open on a starry night, or an amazingly heartfelt hug on a Halloween day at work. Nothing will desaturate the warm colors of a musical coming to life on stage, and the best parts of the story lending themselves to real life. While I have suffered, I have done so honestly and expressed the same in simple words, but that has emptied my heart to make room for greater things to fill it. All this awkward maneuvering that I see, to serve purposes that in the end have little to do with me, will just have to remain beyond the ability for these older eyes to reconcile.
I have everything I need, especially now.
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