We are here now.
It is nearly the end of the climb to the top of the summer, we are more than half way through the dog days and I've yet to bark, and have opted instead for days of running around and tiring myself out, and evenings of laying in one place until it's time to get to bed.
I've been thinking a lot lately about belonging, perhaps because I think about that a lot.
It's easy to have the knowledge, or even the skills to fit in. It's harder to realize that at this stage in your life you're probably better off just being yourself and not caring what others think.
I've been spending more time with my father lately and as nice as it has been, I can tell I feel uncomfortable around him, in a similar way that I feel uncomfortable around everyone.
I have a rather vivid memory of Jake being in the city when I couldn't have been more than 15, and realizing that moments of silence are ok. I learned that lesson and yet haven't taken it to heart.
I think all the constant interrogating of others, of focusing on work questions, and not being able to let my guard down is very off putting.
I've been struggling recently with calling my cousin back after his birthday. I know how selfish it is to not be able to pick up the phone, but I can't fathom what in the world I would say. I had to rewrite his birthday card several times on account of being to nervous to accept what I had written.
All of this comes to a head as I head out to Lexington tomorrow for BCCE. A great conference with many people I know, that I am hoping and sure will go well, and yet I am afraid of who I will be.
Why do I have such trouble being a calm authentic part of myself around others, especially in work settings? Why must I conflate anxiety and planning with interest and attentiveness.
Part of it is the competition, of having such low self esteem that I have to be outwardly seen as in the know or smart on a matter. I am working on admitting when I am wrong, and saying I don't know things.
I realize more and more that I have co-opted not knowing things as well. I lead the conversation towards my learning, and am probably not listening or letting others tell their story.
I think about drinking more often and I know that's not the solution.
It is far from farfetched to see that I am the rabbit, or hare. I am worried more and more that the heart attacks my grandfather suffered, and what's happening to my father are a sign of what is to come. A result of a sprint to the finish where not only does someone else win, because that's not the point, but you don't make it in time, or even worse you have never stopped to smell the flowers.
How ironic that it was during the pandemic that I came as close to nature as I ever have, and now we have so quickly moved, and I've capitalized on this to propel me forwards.
Marc and I have always talked about finding a place that is far far away, and building a life there. I've been terrified of this, of being excised from the world that won't have me, when I realize more and more that there is more than a part of me that wants this too.
I had for so long thought about this endless job I have before me, these years of working towards other's goals.
Something about writing this book is both horrifying, keeping me up just an extra minute or two at night, but the prospect of finishing it is so freeing.
Perhaps this feeling of being the other isn't about finding a spaceship, or being elevated to some grandiose status, but rather finding something that was lost, not within my persay but through connection with all that we are missing in this world today.
I know it's far from that simple. I know that all of the problems I think and feel here are bound to follow me and us where we travel next, and if not being magnified by the silence of the woods, then it at least being reflected by the lake.
The only constancy is constancy. I have learned by now the moods come and go, and I have a life and style that suits me and suits us.
Again I am faced with the question of what I want. I don't suppose it's strange that for a while now I have rested my future on Joe's idea that my students are my children, one that I no longer want to nor believe outright.
Part of me feels selfish in that I want children to teach, to help, to grow, for me, beyond wanting to have them learn, to help me, and more.
It's so strange having immersed myself in so much self-help over the past few years, to have come face to face with the scenarios and answers that are a hair away, and yet so hard to muster in the moment.
I feel paralyzed to ask questions, or voice my opinion, because I know how thin my skin is and that I can't face rejection.
What comes to mind is a moment during cats when we were dancing across the stage one by one, what was probably a challenging move. I went for it, and realizing I had already failed I gave it a flourish knowing it would be received if not well.
For a while I've thought that this was about invoking a different reaction but one better than the expected disappointment. I believe there is truth in that as for many years I was very focused on not being an open readable book.
How do I relax and accept my failures?
Am I too focused on my strengths?
I think now of the time at summer camp when I told my bunkmates that I was fat and they laughed. Maybe we shoo away things of negative valence too much.
Maybe it's just the stress before a trip.
Maybe I need to work on my presentation.
Maybe I don't.
What hijacks my system when I teach and present? Is it flow? Or is it the deepest form of telling my past take control? Is that the same thing? Is it all about how you access and experience it?
It's not beyond me that we both smoke pot because we want to relax in a way we don't feel we can naturally.
I should speak for myself, but what I really want and want to know is how to relax in social settings. How can I draw myself away from the cluster I was born into and towards...ok maybe not towards another, but in some ways channel something to balance these traits out.
The world calls. It will be a busy day slammed into the start of a busy week.
I am very grateful and fortunate to get to write these words, to have the time and presence to think of these things, and get to know myself better.
I look forward not to changing who I am, but letting the parts out of me that I keep hidden, and accepting how the world reacts to them without punishing them, or pushing them further back in.
Onwards is what I usually write at this point, but instead today I say I am here now.