Much of what I've written has come from despair lately. I was completely aware of it but lost in what direction to take so I took myself out of writing about my woes. There is a very strong part of me that wishes to apologize to you, any reader, all my friends for revealing the thorny bits of my psyche. But I won't.
I do believe I'll move on because I did today. I opened up a gift given to me by a therapist of mine who had moved on and lo behold, it was a Dr. Seuss book. As a small child, I would quickly skim his books and put it down. I was irritated by his nonsensical gibberish and the drawings which were not realistic or pleasing to my eye. The abstractions caught at my imagination...but they were probably too scary for me to handle because of the sheer amount of possibilities.
I first read the note in the back that my therapist left me. I had burst into a retching sob when I was given this gift and held out of opening it out of fear that I would be rend in two by the mere fact that a simple request for clarity had been granted. I didn't not have to compromise my wishes because she granted me one.
Putting aside my quirky dislike of Dr. Seuss, I read, "Oh, the Places You'll go!" as quickly as I did as a child, only this time, I put the effort into tasting the words and enjoying the drawings. I laughed to myself about how familiar/iconic all of these things were and how they seemed to repulse me at the same time. As an adult, I can truly appreciate what he had to write and mourn briefly of my childhood where if it wasn't "productive learning", it wasn't worth my time. I challenge that with remembering hours spent poring over fairy tale illustrations with the colors that would not clash and the linear storylines that my mind can pleasantly soothe over.
I fell in love or I got a crush. Both are true. If you read this, I hope you're not scared but I lied to you about not sleeping on Saturday night. I couldn't sleep because of the pain I felt missing you. I'll write about you in private, where no one will ever read them. I can't read your mind so one day, I'll speak to you and ask you how you feel but I want to become that better person worthy of your affection.
And so I'll move forward with my career and find a job and clean up my room, even without you. Because I want to for myself. I'll stop thinking about hurting myself for more than a few seconds a day because I know my family and friends and you would miss me if I did hurt myself. I'll figure out how to love and forgive myself for all the silly mistakes I've made through my art, my precious art that I fearfully put aside.
I'll read my Dr. Seuss book and know that age 28, my life isn't over.
