My Other Life...
I rarely talk about my other life. I had one, before I became a woman of the city, a woman of Sociology, a woman of whatever the hell it is that I am.
I had a completely different other life, in another lifetime... it feels like it could have, should have, been centuries ago. As though it really was a past life, that the new me, in this life, dreams about now and then.
But, my other life, sadly, is based in nothing but reality.
I avoid discussion on my other life for a variety of reasons. One is that no one, not one single person, understands the why's and how's of my other life. Sometimes I don't even think that I understand them. When people make comments about my other life I generally have learned to ignore them because no one in this world could possibly understand the range of emotions I had, and still have, regarding my other life. I live for the day that I'll meet someone who understands my other life.
Another reason is, simply put, that people are assholes. People judge, people have preset notions that no amount of explanation or begging will change. I learned that one or two times the hard way.
Sometimes I'm really thankful for my other life. Martina McBride has a song called "This One's For the Girls". One of the lines in it is Every laugh, laugh line/ On your face/ Made you who/ You are today. So, for this reason, I like my other life. I like having lived it, having had the experiences that I had, and I like having moved on from it.
Sometimes I hate my other life. Sometimes I wish that I'd never met the other players in my other life, I wish I'd never seen their faces. Sometimes I'd like to call them up and scream obscenities into their phones like some kind of psychopath. I've contemplated egging their cars, soaping their windows, slashing their tires. The sane side of me (Possibly the smallest side of me would be the sane side) knows that I'll never do any of those things.
My other life jumped into reality today and slapped me in the face, as this other life is known to do. It's slapped me a few times now. You'd think I'd be used to it.
I had to face one of my biggest fears today. It was hard. It was really, really hard. SuperNan was with me every step of the way. In an attempt to make me feel better she bought me a mini carpet and upholstery cleaner so that I could make repetitive motions that don't involve chewing off pieces of my hands while I processed the happenings of the day. You'll be happy to know that our couch, foot stool, and half of the carpet in the living room smells and looks great.
Facing something that you've been terrified of for the last three years is a really hard thing to do. I thought I was fine. But it seems that every time I'm not busy scrubbing away on carpet of upholstery; every time I'm not playing my guitar; every time I'm trying to sleep and not chew on something: the events of the day, the events of my other life, and the events of my new life play in my head like some kind of movie. A movie I can't turn off. It's like a horror movie, playing and replaying.
Today, my other life faced me in a way I've been dreading since fall 2003. That's a long time to spend dreading something. My old life tested my strength to carry on. It tests every ounce of my moral character because, quite frankly, when my other life faces me, I'd like nothing more than to scream, spit, howl, scratch, and act like some kind of animal. I'd like to throw punches, kick people in the nuts, slap faces, cause damage. I'd like to crawl into bed and never come out. Of course, if I did that, who would clean the upholstery?
My old life came back to haunt me today. I'll never have to face my other life again; not ever in this lifetime. After today, there is nothing in this world that could tie me to this other life. I'm free. I should be singing, dancing, calling up friends to celebrate. Even though I would never tell them why we're celebrating.
So why is it that I'm crying into my pillows?
I'll be fine in the morning. I always am. That's the thing about this new life. It just keeps going on. Whether I scream at it, or God, or anyone, this life just keeps going on.
Perhaps that's why I'm always excited to see what the next day will bring. A new friend? A new lover? A new recipe for some crazy jam that I found on the internet?
I think that's what is so confusing about humanity. There are so many reasons to just give up and stop living. At the same time, there are just so many reasons to continue on.
Toonses
I had a completely different other life, in another lifetime... it feels like it could have, should have, been centuries ago. As though it really was a past life, that the new me, in this life, dreams about now and then.
But, my other life, sadly, is based in nothing but reality.
I avoid discussion on my other life for a variety of reasons. One is that no one, not one single person, understands the why's and how's of my other life. Sometimes I don't even think that I understand them. When people make comments about my other life I generally have learned to ignore them because no one in this world could possibly understand the range of emotions I had, and still have, regarding my other life. I live for the day that I'll meet someone who understands my other life.
Another reason is, simply put, that people are assholes. People judge, people have preset notions that no amount of explanation or begging will change. I learned that one or two times the hard way.
Sometimes I'm really thankful for my other life. Martina McBride has a song called "This One's For the Girls". One of the lines in it is Every laugh, laugh line/ On your face/ Made you who/ You are today. So, for this reason, I like my other life. I like having lived it, having had the experiences that I had, and I like having moved on from it.
Sometimes I hate my other life. Sometimes I wish that I'd never met the other players in my other life, I wish I'd never seen their faces. Sometimes I'd like to call them up and scream obscenities into their phones like some kind of psychopath. I've contemplated egging their cars, soaping their windows, slashing their tires. The sane side of me (Possibly the smallest side of me would be the sane side) knows that I'll never do any of those things.
My other life jumped into reality today and slapped me in the face, as this other life is known to do. It's slapped me a few times now. You'd think I'd be used to it.
I had to face one of my biggest fears today. It was hard. It was really, really hard. SuperNan was with me every step of the way. In an attempt to make me feel better she bought me a mini carpet and upholstery cleaner so that I could make repetitive motions that don't involve chewing off pieces of my hands while I processed the happenings of the day. You'll be happy to know that our couch, foot stool, and half of the carpet in the living room smells and looks great.
Facing something that you've been terrified of for the last three years is a really hard thing to do. I thought I was fine. But it seems that every time I'm not busy scrubbing away on carpet of upholstery; every time I'm not playing my guitar; every time I'm trying to sleep and not chew on something: the events of the day, the events of my other life, and the events of my new life play in my head like some kind of movie. A movie I can't turn off. It's like a horror movie, playing and replaying.
Today, my other life faced me in a way I've been dreading since fall 2003. That's a long time to spend dreading something. My old life tested my strength to carry on. It tests every ounce of my moral character because, quite frankly, when my other life faces me, I'd like nothing more than to scream, spit, howl, scratch, and act like some kind of animal. I'd like to throw punches, kick people in the nuts, slap faces, cause damage. I'd like to crawl into bed and never come out. Of course, if I did that, who would clean the upholstery?
My old life came back to haunt me today. I'll never have to face my other life again; not ever in this lifetime. After today, there is nothing in this world that could tie me to this other life. I'm free. I should be singing, dancing, calling up friends to celebrate. Even though I would never tell them why we're celebrating.
So why is it that I'm crying into my pillows?
I'll be fine in the morning. I always am. That's the thing about this new life. It just keeps going on. Whether I scream at it, or God, or anyone, this life just keeps going on.
Perhaps that's why I'm always excited to see what the next day will bring. A new friend? A new lover? A new recipe for some crazy jam that I found on the internet?
I think that's what is so confusing about humanity. There are so many reasons to just give up and stop living. At the same time, there are just so many reasons to continue on.
Toonses
posted by Amanda at 01:18
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home