I'll see you when I get back.

Thoughts on going places you can't always come back from

trigger warning - this is a little sad. nothing to worry about but just a little sad. I had to write this down to figure it out. see u soon if u are also feeling a little sad and want to skip.

"I'll see you when I get back," and I knew it to be true. I wrapped my arms around him and placed my lips on his. "I'll see you when I get back," I echoed, unsure where exactly I was supposed to be going. The week prior, he told me I was gentle, not "how you act, but who you are." The night before, I told him I thought he was gentle, too. I don't remember if he responded; we fell asleep moments later with the light still on. I woke up throughout the night disoriented, unsure what day or time it was.

I have felt disoriented and unsettled for months. I often recount the reasons like a nursery rhythm to calm the child within me. To affirm that I am allowed to feel the unease that bubbles up inside every few days. First, Tadhg left, then Eania, then Megan. Then I packed up, moved, and decided to stay in NY, so I chose not to return home. I worked and worked some more. I flew East to West, then West to East. Again and again and again. I stopped working and made no money. All I had was time, and that still wasn't enough. I said hellos and then goodbyes. I closed myself off before the goodbyes became too painful. I grimaced and held my family's arms gently as if willing them not to let me go. I took it in my stride. Everything felt fine. 

Until it wasn't, over the last few weeks, things have felt too much. Too painful and too uncomfortable. It's too all-consuming and terrifying. I feel young again, too young, though, like an infant left alone. I don't feel like myself, I just feel lethargic. 

I keep shouting at myself in my brain and calling friends and family—calling and apologizing for being me. I keep telling myself that I promised 2024 would be my most productive, creative, and fabulous year, yet I don't think I have ever felt so scared, unsettled, and uncreative. I'm finding it hard to find joy. I am googling "What's up with the moon" daily and scouring astrology websites on company time to figure out if I feel so weird because of the stars. According to most sites, I should be the happiest, wealthiest, and most successful I've ever been. Three of my cards declined as I tried to buy deodorant in CVS today.

Things are a little tough right now. Everything feels a little pointless; I find myself asking, "Is this it?" a lot. Is this what I dreamed of or wanted? Have I ever dreamed? Have I ever allowed myself to stop and think and dream about who I may become or what I may do? Who do I want to be? What if it's too scary? What if I'm just me? Just Me. The human equivalent of suburbia - nobody's dream but ultimately their destination. What if this is it? What if this is it. 

I'm not too sure what's going on with me. I'm making excuses; I'm falling in love, I'm being a friend, I'm fucking it all up, I'm laughing, I'm sleeping, I'm breathing, I'm making breakfast. I'm learning; I'm relearning; I'm being vulnerable; I'm not running away; I'm seeing actions rather than empty promises, I'm scared he'll be outside my apartment or on the train; I'm ugly, I'm tender, I'm wounded, I'm sexualized, I'm a friend, I'm gentle, I'm taking up space, I'm myself, I'm drinking Diet Coke, I'm pointless, I'm hopeful, I'm stronger than I think. I'm alive, I'm talking, I'm writing. I'm telling myself it's just January. I'm telling myself it's just this time of year. I'm telling myself that something is up! I'm telling myself that everything is ok. I'm telling myself that I need to spend more time alone. I'm telling myself a lot of things, and I'm not sure what voice is saying what. What voice is the fox, and which is the hound? They have gotten smarter, and I do not think I can outrun them. I'm tired. I'm telling myself I'll be ok. It all feels like a lot. It is a lot. 

He texted me later that day and told me he felt bad that I rushed out into the gray day alone. I told him I'm always rushing and gray days are only in your head. I didn’t say this, but I am never alone, or at least I never feel it.

For now, I am only able to reply to a few people, read page after page of a very small novel, cook dinners very slowly, take too long to do easy sudoku, shower in boiling water, chop vegetables unevenly, move through the world softly, change the song playing through my earphones constantly, turn off podcasts because I can't concentrate on what they are saying. To muster up the courage to write, to stand up to the voices in my head, to fight to be gentle to myself. 

Just as I promised him, and if you know me, you know this to be true. 

I'll see you when I get back