About Me

My photo
"I would rather be ashes than dust! I would rather my spark burn out in a brilliant blaze than be stifled by dry-rot. I would rather be a meteor, every atom of me in magnificent glow, than a sleepy, permanent planet. The proper function of man is to live, not to exist. I shall not waste my days in trying to prolong them. I shall use my time." ~Jack London

Wednesday, January 02, 2008

Bang



2008. A new year. A fresh start.

I suppose I had hoped that it would somehow work out that way, that everything would just reset, that I could begin again with a blank slate to create upon. I suppose I had wished that when the clock struck twelve, my whole life would be different. The fireworks would burst open across the dark night sky and shower my life with their pixie dust. Bang. It would be magic. Bang. I would be reborn. Bang. Everything would be okay again.

But this is real life, and so that's not what happened. Instead I stood on the bridge with my friends, with thousands of strangers, with an entire city buzzing around me, feeling completely alone. And there is nothing more painful than feeling alone when surrounded by people. Truly, there is not.

It's been a rough week, but more than that, it's been a rough couple of years. I haven't dealt with it. I've been sad for moments, but let those moments pass by without much more than a single tear. I've pushed everything I've wanted to say, everything I've felt, aside to make room for the responsibilities and obligations of daily life. I've been foolish. I've cut myself off through my denial and avoidance and silence. I've closed the door to my friends, to my ambitions, to my emotions, to my own life. I've forced smiles and bit my tongue. I've distorted my body and mind and heart to convince the world that I'm okay, as though somehow everyone was watching, as though somehow that perception of me was what mattered.

It is 2008, and I am only just now learning how to ask for help. Even that is a struggle, and I fear the inevitably more difficult tasks beyond that -- learning how to express myself, learning how to allow myself to feel, learning how to be okay with who I am. I am well aware of the angst that such a journey brings. Yet still I know, I must try. Prolonging it does nothing but create more of a mountain to climb. I know that. I know that it is fear that hinders me. I know that only I can save my own life.

But knowing things doesn't always make it easier to act. Often, it makes it harder. And I know that what lies before me requires more courage than anything I've ever done. And I am scared. I am scared to open the gates of my family history, knowing what's there, knowing there's more to discover. I am scared to admit that I feel, more often than not, that I don't belong to that family, that no one does, that we're a group of people connected through obligation. I am scared of how alone that makes me feel.

But what scares me even more than that is the thought that I'll always feel that way, the thought that I'll never speak to them about it, that we'll all continue on in our silent worlds, smiling politely to one another across the table on holidays. And I can't live that way. I refuse to become them. I refuse to repeat their mistakes.

Which is why, in this new year, I know what I have to do. I have to step off of this path I am on and reevaluate my route. I have to look back to move forward. I have to be brave enough to say that I am unhappy, that I need help, that I refuse to quiet the inner monologue running through my head. I have to use this voice I was blessed with. I have to start screaming until I am heard.

And so today I bought a new computer and resolved to return to this blog. Because even if no one is reading, somehow it still allows me to speak. And so with this, I send my first loud cry out into the world, like an explosion of feeling,

like fireworks.

Bang.

4 comments:

Sky said...

Hi Frankie. I am reading. I always check back here at some point. The writing was too good to take a chance on missing! Many will read again when they realize you are back.

I have been in a similar place in my own life. My family of origin left many scars. I didn't see a therapist until I was 29 years old. Think of it this way - the earlier you begin that journey, the sooner you will be able to claim the life you want! You show such courage in the voice you use as you begin to tell us your story. I am glad to know a bit more about who you are, the challenges you face, the journey you travel. Many of us will keep you company as you make your journey, Frankie. In essence it is what your therapist will do, too. You will not be alone.

I remember thinking about the therapy experience as looking at a huge gift, wrapped in paper and ribbons, sitting before me. Every piece of paper and tape I took off the package brought me closer to the gift inside - which was, of course, ME!

We finally get to a place where the bandaids don't work any longer. Then it is time to go about the real job - the healing one.

You are such a magnificent young woman, and I admire you so much. I am happy to know you are back. 2008 is the beginning of your very wonderful life ahead! yes, you are right - the path will be bumpy and painful. the walls will come tumbling down and it is scary, as you have said. behind the walls, however, is a freedom which will open doors and let your heart sing.

love and hugs are wrapped in my words...sky

gkgirl said...

it was like a little new years eve
present to check my comments and
find one from you...
it has been awhile for certain
and i am glad to see you back
at the blog again
even if the circumstances
feel hard right now...

hugs

Claudia said...

I´m here, I´m reading.

Beetlebum said...

frankie, i think it is really funny. you and i are friends, granted not the closest friends ever. but i really have the best time hanging out with you. you are so genuine and great to be around. i love reading this because i see such a different side of you, and i really really like this side of you too.

you know how i told you i just bought 3 post secret books? i bought them because i feel alone. i picked one up in barnes and noble and figured i'd flip through. flipping through turned into sitting down and reading, which i figured i would do instead of buy it. but when i got to a particular one about being alone, it made me feel less lonely. what i'm getting at here is that although you might feel alone, you're not. i know we don't talk about our lives much but i really truly mean this: if you ever need to talk i would always be willing to listen.

p.s. i love what you said about having to look back to move forward. i hope you don't mind if i quote you on that.