Saturday, April 30, 2011
Insecurity is as potent as sadness. It took me three years to believe the love I was shown, and six months for the possibility of its flukeness to creep back into my head.
Let's just say that, given the satisfaction my current relationships are yielding, I've begun to entertain the idea that I'm shooting for something I'll never find.
I hope that relinquishing the idea of a forever with someone magically releases the idea to someone else's life. That's the only way I make peace with it. I'd rather handle loneliness and learn from it than cause someone else to. Now, that's not the way life has ever worked or will ever work--the transfer of happiness skipping like neutrons between atoms of hope.
But it's true that I've prayed before for God to strip my faith from me that anyone else might have it, free and clear and forever.
There are too many holes in that scenario to count, but I wished it so hard....
I think the imagination behind it all is in the same vein as my gratefulness for the learning experience loneliness offers. As people find their places around me, I get to learn from them as well. There is no bitterness involved because I don't resent the chance to learn more about the world.
That said, it will be interesting to see if/when I find my place. I have the capacity to throw myself into numerous places, as my improving judgment allows, and I used to think I had the strength to do it over and over and over again.
I don't think I do anymore. Partly, the taste of disappointment is officially stale. Partly, I'd like to curb the rate of my growing disillusionment.
That cynicism fades as I walk alone to the park, an apple in my hand and a smile on my face.... but it bubbles up within me as I receive the text that those who invited me to meet them there have decided to leave. They say they'll see me later.
Posted by Lucy Doughty at 2:09 AM
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
I am supposed to be doing my math homework, but how can I at a time like this? You know. Like this. When my thoughts are churning.
It was really nice to meet you, goodbye
It's high time I quit wondering why
'Cause I have lost all that I can from my side
And when you think of me again, no
I tried, I tried, goodbye
Forgive me while I lay here
But I have nowhere else to be
I figure when I leave this time, it's for keeps
And when I say, 'Good Morning' next
I'll lie, I'll lie, this is goodbye
I'll only lay the day I can't remember you at all
And it's not easy to say that day
Is already come and gone
And all that remains is a place
Where you no longer are
One day I won't regret this
Oh, how I want to believe that's true
Once I pick up my parts I broke on you
I'll get used to the idea
It's not you, not you, goodbye
--Greg Laswell, "Goodbye"
I have been talking about grief with the people I care about. I think it's interesting how deeply individual grief can be while maintaining a...revelation pattern, if you will, that unites all that have experienced it. A revelation pattern that teaches people about themselves. A revelation pattern that seems to determine identity from that day onward. An identity that tries to shake itself of the grief to find peace, but begins to find peace only once it recognizes the role the grief plays.
I think a universal aspect of grief is the wrenching notion that in times of happiness, the grief hides its face juuust long enough to be forgotten. When the happy moment passes, the grief doesn't just reappear, but reappears as if for the first time. It's as though you say Hello Again with an I Thought I'd Lost You that pairs itself with a Where Did You Come From? and then an Oh Yeah.
What I think I've already experienced but didn't conceptualize until yesterday is how potent sadness is. Imagine a paint palette. Colors get lighter when mixed with white and darker when mixed with black. Have you ever noticed how much white it takes to lighten a color? No matter how much you add, you could always stand to be a little lighter. And every time a person or song or lyric or scent or situation adds just one drop of black to your rainbow, entire strokes of white are erased. The world gets a little bit darker much more freely than it gets lighter. There's never enough white to whiten the black.
The hardest part has been accepting that believing in people with everything I have isn't enough. I keep swearing that I'll get just a little bit more, a little bit more, a little bit more to believe in you all with, but what would that solve?
There's lots to believe in. That you will be disappointed is on the list. That you will be disappointed because you're used to your belief being enough is on the list. That learning how and who to believe is one of the greatest lessons you'll learn is on the list.
When the willingness to have faith in someone forever is unwanted... well. Willingness is difficult to recycle. And faith is hard to throw away.
Posted by Lucy Doughty at 10:49 PM
Sunday, April 24, 2011
Man, does life speed by.
High school was this era of welcome stagnance. It got stuffy sometimes and sometimes I wanted to take a spring day and use it to run away, but I was probably going to come home for dinner. I was in love for the majority of it, so my skin glowed differently. And I was hopeful for most of it, so my words rang differently.
I'm not in love anymore, but my words still ring a little differently. And when they tell you high school is "the glory days," put a mental "some of" in front of it. They are the days during which you learn how to fill your days with glory. They are the days in which you learn how to brush yourself off after a particularly gloryless day. The days when your friends are the best and your grades are the worst. Then college comes around, and you wait for better friends and worse grades....
but I'm still not entirely sure that's part of the deal. The years you use to most form yourself will always seem an anchor in a better time. And the days that have you saying, "Wow. I might belong here." should not be overlooked. Because while you don't belong there, wherever it is you do will have taken a hint from then.
It's rough, you know. I don't want what I had, but what I had is my anchor in that time. I could never embrace ignorance, and so I'll never be able to go back, but that's my gain. Why aren't all gains peaceful?
Eyes can turn natives into tourists. Time can turn lovers into strangers, and girls into birds.
I'll be aiming for the sun until it's time to aim for the moon. Just call me when dinner's ready.
Posted by Lucy Doughty at 2:19 AM