For a long time, I refused to be around anyone when I started to spiral. Maybe calling it a spiral sounds back but that’s likely because it’s associated with downward rather than revisiting. I’ve been spiraling for about 8 days now, upward and learning but spiraling nonetheless. I considered closing myself off from absolutely everyone for the weekend, running away.
I’m so glad I didn’t. There were so many great moments I would have missed. Even worse, I would have missed knowing that I can spiral out in the open, around the right people, and the world doesn’t end. Would you look at that? Courage.
Observation
I think back to psychology class in high school. There was a moment we learned that everything, everyone, respond differently under observation.
I’m not sure how well you know me or don’t, but my level of stubbornness, persistence, likes to prove anything, anyone, wrong.
Not for a moment does this mean that I’m there yet, that I carry consistency in and out of the observation chamber.
My apartment is safe because when I’m alone I can lock the door and no one has a key, no one can see. I take off my mask and unbecome all of the most human things.
No, I’m not saying I’m not human but I don’t think any of us really are. It’s just an experience.
I let go of all of the human things but feel the need to strap them back on the moment another presence emerges.
I want to tell, someone, anyone, that I spoke to soul that night. I’m still trying to figure out whose, does it matter?
I need someone to know that sometimes things feel different for me than how everyone makes it seem.
My dad.
My dad told my mom I was different, she told me. It’s when I started trying, desperately, to be normal, – whatever that is.
As a child, I told everyone I was a witch, but good, and could make things happen, change the world.
I desperately wanted to believe that I had an impact, an ability, beyond the humanness we let weigh us down.
As a child, my best friend wasn’t allowed to hang out with a little girl that might actually think she’s a witch. That doesn’t fit in with our God narrative.
Got it. Can’t be powerful AND fit in. I really want to fit in.
Can’t be me and align with your God, I really want that level of acceptance you see.
I don’t want to fit in anymore, now I know that any God worth making the time for understands that he made me just like this and I can’t unbecome it just to fit in, and witch, well witch isn’t the word I would use now that I have a slightly more expansive vocabulary, but I believe I’m powerful and can change the world, starting with mine.
No one is any more receptive to the idea than they were when I was a child but I let it go and it came back, that must mean it’s for me, right? I’m trying it on again.
I used to carry around this tiny journal with a stubby little pencil, my spellbook. I’m talking tiny, Lisa Frank, key chain journal, spellbook.
Now my boyfriend walks back in the front door after stepping out for a cigarette and I lag but eventually, I snap back to reality after scribbling meaning out into my journal.
Now that I have a slightly more expansive vocabulary, I don’t call it my spellbook but I believe the things I write, insights, have the power to change my world in the same way.
I snap back to reality instead of just looking up because sometimes the things I write feel like they’re coming less from me and more out of a need, a whisper.
My dad.
My dad confessed one too many times that he heard voices. When I say too many, because I hate to say too anything, all I mean is I stopped believing the laugh that followed meant that he was joking.
I can’t repeat myself in my pleasant customer service tone without it sounding like my inside voice has become a yell.
If you ignore a whisper, the voices turn screams and you feel like you’re losing your mind.
Listen.
Sometimes you’ll catch me whispering under my breath, making hand gestures as if I’m responding, explaining. Don’t worry, it’s a sign of my comfort.
I think of the woman that I thought of as my grandmother, sitting on the bed, putting lipstick on me, talking angel kisses, reminding me that it’s okay to talk to yourself but not to answer yourself.
I had a dream the other night about trying to tell the truth and being 302’d.
I think back to psychology class, where we learned that abnormalities are, – WOAH! Just crazy!
So I’m still trying to figure out, desperately, how to maintain myself even under observation. Even crazy.
Much love, until next time.
Madeline May I... 