Waiting to Exhale

I'm heading over to Sissyface's to spend the the night, and to view my apartment for the first time. Tomorrow morning before she heads out for work we're going to pick up paint so I can get started on the bedroom.

As I contemplate this move, all sorts of negative phrases parade through my mind.

You don't deserve this.

You'll fail miserably at living alone and make a fool of yourself.

That's just a sample. My response? Who deserves anything? I don't think I'm any less or any more deserving than anyone else, and yet I see others all around me living independent lives.

As for making a fool of myself, well it wouldn't be the first time.

Maybe I would make a bigger fool of myself by not even trying to live alone.

And maybe I won't fail. Maybe living alone will be similar to living with others in the sense of having my good days and my bad days. I'm lonely here a lot of the time. Sometimes I'm loneliest around other people.

I try to prepare myself for the issues I think will bother me most:  I'll have to park on the street, and I'm lousy at parallel parking. I won't have as many cable channels available (I know this sounds petty, but I do have my routines.) I won't have a TV in my room to fall asleep to. (If this really bothers me I'll have to move it out of the living room, so I guess this is a solvable problem.)

What else? I'll be farther from Tim. I won't see him as often on the weekends.

I'll be living several doors down from where my mother will be spending the holidays. Because of her visit Sissyface won't be able to spend Christmas with me and my family.

But there are good things too, let's not forget that:  I'll be closer to Maddy and Anna, and Sissyface will be my neighbor. I'll have not only a bedroom to myself, but a living room, bathroom and kitchen. I can occasionally eat breakfast at the pub. I can take all my things out of boxes and bags and whatnots, and find a place for everything. When I want to sew or knit or write, whatever I need will be within reach.

Even as I write this that old, old fear seeps up from some rotted corner of my soul, that fear of being without familiar distractions so that I will have to face everything I've been stuffing down for decades.

What excuse will I have for not giving into my pent up grief, now that there will be no one around to witness my anguish? Isn't that what I always tell my(selves)--that I musn't allow my tears to flow lest someone see the shame of my pain?

The shame of my pain, that's the real deep-rooted issue I've been running from all of my life. How shameful it seems to be the recipient, the holder of so much pain. What does it say about me that I'm one big walking wound?

I will choose not to think of all this as I get settled in. Beyond that I can't plan or foresee how things will go. I'm terrified of all that ugly stuff vomiting up when I am alone and most vulnerable. And maybe that's exactly why I need my solitude, because I don't know how much longer I can hold it all back.

Comments

[Austin]

You've gone through so very much in the last 2 years perhaps this move, a place of your own is the break you've been needing. I doubt you'll be there alone a lot. I have a feeling you'll still see your family quite often. Remember you're not being banished to your room alone, there's nothing to wait such as the other shoe to fall. This is a locked house of your choosing and not a place of banishment. Sometimes I think I hear that in your writing when you speak of being alone, that you feel you'll be exiled in an apartment by yourself with no one at all. Your family will be around still. There will still be cook outs and gatherings, birthdays, holidays and all that stuff. The only difference is now Nana has her own space where she can spread out and get comfortable in addition to spending time with them. You can both.

I read the part about feeling like you can't hold it all back anymore. Girl, you've been through so much and it seemed to all happen back to back to back. You've had no real rest for so long now so maybe in this place when you have your own four walls then your inner walls can slowly come down.

friend to friend
Austin

[Austin]

This line hurts. I literally cringed when I read it because my mother said it to me. Here I am 37 years old and I still hear that line in my head, "you'll make a fool of yourself." It is a distructive phrase that doesn't allow an individual to make the most simple mistakes without feeling powerful guilt and shame. Fool, it's a strong word they blanketed over every mis-step...and one I remember to this day.

Austin