Lies and Losing Shit
This is the encouraging one, the one I write for myself because I’m terribly forgetful.
That is lie number one.
I don’t forget everything.
I’ll remember your birthday, what we did seven years ago, movie lines and names of people that won’t remember mine. I’ll remember every lyric to a song I haven’t listened to in thirteen years and when I worked at that café, I remembered every customers order.
Lie number two.
Not every customers order, the orders of customers I liked. The ones that took the time to say hello and thank you.
I don’t lose shit either.
I still have my 2005 Ipod with all relevant 2005 songs and irrelevant short videos I used to make. I’ve never lost my wallet, or my keys or my phone.
Lie number three.
I lost my sunglasses and haven’t bought new ones since. I left them behind in Canada and noticed immediately because the sun was most definitely frying my eyes when I got to New York. Hot, sweaty New York.
I couldn’t believe I had lost them so I unpacked everything out of my big backpack and my small backpack and no, they weren’t there. And they still weren’t there when I decided to go through every pile of clothing and they still weren’t there when I went through every pocket, even the pockets that were smaller than my sunglasses because I was determined.
Lie number four.
I was hopeful.
Lie number five.
I was confused because there are all these stories I reinforce daily and I wish all of them were as simple and as unimportant as losing shit.
Lie number six.
All these stories are important because they are attached to different stories and different meanings and before I know it I am in the middle of all I think I am.
Losing things is attached to forgetfulness attached to carelessness attached to what I don’t want to ever be.
Whenever I leave the house I don’t triple check that I have the keys with me, I check so many times I’m embarrassed to say.
I leave the house and then run up the hill to check I didn’t leave the flat iron on.
I leave the house and then run up the hill to check I didn’t leave the oven on.
I check my pockets to make sure the right change for the bus is there even though I counted the coins more times than would seem normal.
It takes me longer to leave the house than it does to get ready and I’m also rarely late because I know this about myself, which not only makes me crazy but considerate and I never thought you could be both.
But this is the encouraging one, the one I write for myself because I need it, because I am forgetful, but mostly of things that matter.
It was less than a year ago that I decided to pray. I got down on my knees and thought it was too rough on my knees so I simply sat cross legged and greeted God and felt impolite for never really ever greeting God before and the whole not being on my knees thing and then I wondered who God was to me but that is beside the point.
Knowing doesn’t create change.
Big feelings make you act in big ways because there is a sort of divine intolerance that rises up within you that you can’t keep pushing down any longer.
My big feelings made me sit and pray and ask for guidance.
When I prayed that evening I asked for peace and I have found little glimpses of it but that would be.
Lie number seven,
If I were to say it was all because I prayed.
A big feeling is anger. A big feeling is trust. A big feeling is surrendering.
The truth is I only got over the fact I had lost my sunglasses when I left New York and had to repack my bags. I had this hopeful feeling they would appear somehow even though I was clearly in a different country.
On another day I would have said this was naivety, or even stubbornness but today I decide it’s trust.
I’m always amazed at how quickly we can change when we’re not looking. I’m always amazed at how little we truly know about ourselves.
I think I’ve become strangely addicted to this self-exploration that keeps revealing new thoughts and feelings and ways of being. I always thought this was the best part of falling in love with another person, figuring out their quirks and the faces they make at certain things and how their mouth moves when they say that one word strangely. I'm finding it feels awfully similar to falling in love with oneself. I find it’s still my favourite feeling and what a relief I don’t have to look for it in someone else.
The best way to surprise yourself is to keep placing yourself in different environments.
And the best way to avoid internal conflict when you find out you are not the person you were three different environments ago is to trust.
Trust it’s all gathering, it’s all useful and none of it is permanent.
Trust you’ll never know the entire story and trust that that’s ok, because whatever you can come up with in that tiny little head of yours will never match the wonders that are available.
This is the one I write to say:
We’ve all got our weird things, but I’m so sure that they are made weirder by our constant reinforcement of that same story.
The same words we use,
The same identities we create for ourselves.
A big feeling is surrendering,
And it has led me to some pretty wondrous places.