I am afraid of more things than I would care to admit. I hate open water unless I am on a ferry or a large boat. I saw my electric top stove spark once and now I’m very afraid that cooking in my apartment will result in a fire and truthfully, I undervalued my possessions on my renter’s insurance for a lower rate so like, that wouldn’t be ideal. I am afraid of my body, and how it’s starting to become unpredictable. I am afraid of change, and would rather just lay on my couch while beauty tutorials play than plan for big things like moves, career shifts, relationships, weddings, and travel.
I am not what you would call a “relaxed” person. At any given moment I am worried about or nervous about or overthinking approximately 15 things. But currently one of my biggest fears is that I’ve become too good at compartmentalizing and numbing my own feelings down for the sake of self-preservation. And the problem with this is then on the days when I do actually have feelings or am overwhelmed with something like, I don’t know, nostalgia, it’s so consuming that it makes me freak the ever-living-fuck out. I’m now adding “um. feelings.” to my giant list of fears and that’s equal parts hysterical and, well, terrifying.
I think the happiest I’ve been in a long time was last month when I was at one of my favorite spots in Brooklyn, on kind of a rainy day, and I read an entire book in 3 hours. I just sat at the bar, nursed two lagers, and read. No one tried to bug me or get me to break away except for the bartender (politely and adorably) making occasional small talk, I kept to myself. I texted Chrissy quotes from the book when I felt particularly inspired to do so. It was honestly perfect. I think I’ve become incredibly good at being alone. And alone is now a place I don’t fear or feel anxious by, I thrive there.
I’m starting to kind of think closure is a word that some therapist invented to make someone feel better, but that isn’t actually obtainable at all. I don’t think hearing, “I don’t love you anymore, goodbye.” all of sudden makes you go POOF oh thank you for that closure, kind sir, watch me be okay now. I don’t think that finality, no matter how much or how little you’re given, directly impacts how you feel in the slightest. But I think saying, “I just need some closure,” helps you justify your own inability to feel okay about a specific situation not having the end result you concocted or envisioned.
So then the question is, what do you do when you’re never going to get closure? What do you do when you realize that that’s something you’re never going to have, and you have to figure out how to be okay with that? How do you be okay with not feeling okay about something? And is feeling perpetually upset and like you have something left to say or something left unfinished just…normal?
There’s a shirt that I stole from one of my best friends during one of the weirdest transitional periods of my life, and every time I wear it I want to text him and ask him if he misses that time as much as I do. That summer/fall/early winter where we weren’t sure of what we were doing or what we wanted and felt like every life decision (jobs, grad school, relationships, sex, people etc etc) were potential, glacial level mistakes that we were making. And I miss it because I think, lately, I’ve felt horribly uninteresting. So while I was a disaster then and constantly was breaking out and crying over people who hurt me and doing my own fair share of hurting, I felt fun. I felt a buzz at all times. Even though there was potential for a glacial level mistake, there was something so exciting about that. And maybe we don’t get to keep that forever, nor should we because omg the breakouts and the hangovers and the sleep deprivation would eventually kill us all, but I’m always going to kind of miss it.
I don’t think I’ve slept in three days and even though I know it’s making me insane, my hands and feet are constantly numb, all I want to do is go run on Alki Beach until I’m so exhausted I could just sleep there in the sand listening to the Sound.
But like, I also don’t want to get murdered. So to the treadmill it is.