Garsh, I hope I haven’t really blown this out of proportion. Now, I’m afraid the hype is better than the movie. I’ve been so giddy, I suspect people think I’m losing it. I’ve had numerous blonde moments, entertaining the shit out of everyone around me. Here’s a sample:
We have live plants at work and a couple of them have not been doing well, evidenced by the abundant amount of yellowing leaves. They usually sit on top of filing cabinets right under the heating vents. Monday night, I moved them down onto a counter top. Tuesday morning, all of the leaves were green. Not a yellow leaf on either plant. I was ecstatic. I went to tell my fellow plant lady. I brought her over to show her the plants. I explained the whole thing to her, happy my idea worked so quickly. She listened to me with a straight face for as long as she could. Finally, she let me know she had pulled all of the yellow leaves off just before I got in that morning. I’ll pause now while you compose yourself…
The question I have been asking myself is, “Where do I begin?” I like numbers and linear things, and this seems like a good way to organize my thoughts, so I’ll begin at the beginning. Of course, believing in the interrelatedness of all things, I’m sure I’ll run off on tangents and go in circles, but that can’t be helped.
I have always had this idea in the back of my mind. I call it my genuine self. I remember quite clearly what I was like as a child and that memory, that vision of myself has been a lifelong goal for me. Even at the age of three and four, I was a solitary child. I managed to entertain myself for hours without end. Details engrossed me. I watched sand run through my fingers, bees buzzing around my head, mushrooms growing beneath giant pine trees. I listened quietly to the grownups around me, consequently hearing things beyond my years. Adults fascinated me. I enjoyed a freedom few children my age were allowed. I rarely connected with children my own age. I watched everything. I was then and still am now incredibly naive. Some who know me, say I have no common sense, but I disagree. I believe that the world is a wonderful, beautiful place and people are inherently good and I have only developed a keen sense of cynicism as a way to protect myself. I am also a staunch survivor.
Everything gave me joy as a child. I remember that. There are times now, when I experience that feeling, like when I go outside and the air sings around me, the sky a perfect cornflower blue, a slight breeze dancing across my face and if the world ended at that moment, I would die happy. That state of being in sync with the universe is the carrot I have been chasing.
As you all know, life sucks. Shit happens. We step in doodoo, other people throw crap at us, pooh is smushed in our hair, sometimes the choices we make put us in deep dung. (OK, enough with the fecal references even though I was having fun. [Ps. Jay: I wrote this paragraph before I read your story From the Bowels of Hell. Jung was right, there is a universal consciousness.])
My curiosity for adults led me into situations where I didn’t belong around the age of five and things went awry from there. The specifics are no longer important. But, that first damage to my soul lead to more, which lead to poor choices based on my personal learning curve and all of these things compounded into a person that was far from that original child that I recall so clearly.
Feel free to laugh at the following story, as it is funny. Around the age of sixteen, I had my first epiphany. I was miserable, depressed, ugly, fat, unlovable, a teenager. I tried to suffocate myself with my pillow. It was working, too, despite what you may think. During that brief milli-second between passing out and asphyxiation, God spoke to me, telling me not to give up. So, I haven’t, even though it seems like a long slog sometimes.
I knew I wasn’t right with the world and I began my search for the solution that would fix me. Of course, since I wasn’t sure what exactly was broken, I bounced from one idea to another without getting where I really wanted to be.
Instead of a bunch of scatological references, can this universal consciousness please conjure up some winning lottery numbers for me?ReplyDelete
Hmm.. can people actually suffocate themselves? Successfully, I mean.
There is a wealth in what you left unsaid. To go from the child you were to the 16-year old you were...ReplyDelete
That light in you is pretty amazing Nessa. Whatever, they did, they couldn't quench it.
And I like the plant story...no matter what was done to you, love and nurture seems to be your automatic response.
Jay: I wish you could win the lottery. I wish everyone could be independantly wealthy.ReplyDelete
At the time, I would swear that you could suffocate yourself, but as I'm here now, we'll never know.
Jenn: You are sweet. There was a big difference between me at 5 and me at 16, an internal difference. But I think I'm getting back to the beginning.
The plant story has entertained everyone all week. The fundmental point of the story for me is that I do belive in miracles.
I didn't know people ca actually suffocate themselves.ReplyDelete
I learn so much in the blogging world.