Stepping out tonight.. even though I don’t really want to
I went to a story telling event. I really didn’t want to go but while I was scrolling on TikTok for an undisclosed amount of time I remembered something that stuck with me. “Let yourself sit in the feeling of not wanting to do something, feel those feelings and then do it anyway”.
This simple statement echoed in my mind. How many times have I told myself that I should do this and that. Get out more, meet new people, create experiences only to be in the 11th hour and have the painstakingly familiar feeling of not wanting to do it anymore. I’m a hermit who is sickened by her baby agoraphobia.
Why go out into the world, with every scroll I see pain, sadness and disappointment. I am safe here in these four walls, I pay too much for, I am comfortable here making my own entertainment. But the outside world beckons me to something deeper and my loneliness cry’s out to me aching for connection. But I often ignore her. I like the warmth of my couch and the familiarity of my remote, I am safe here, but I’m alone.
So I pushed myself off the couch, turned off the tv and laced up my shoes and trekked north to Fulton Market. I feel the cold night air on my skin as my Uber pulls up and I walk into the room filled with people. I listen to their stories and I see familiar faces. I absorb their memories and I laughed with them. They inspire me to tell my story and maybe one day I’ll be brave enough to dawn the stage and speak my truth through the microphone and I can inspire others as they have inspired me.
The theme of the evening was homecoming and each person told a story about their idea of home. Some were hilarious and kept us all belly laughing and others were poignant and cut deep. Allowing us to be thankful for the lessons they’ve experienced and their courage for sharing an intimate moment. While sitting there absorbing all the stories, I imagined myself standing there and speaking my story. I’m not the biggest fan of public speaking like most people in the world. But I am trying to make some real changes this year and really stepping out of my comfort zone and to stop acting out of fear.
This is what I came up with so far to share:
I didn’t always look this way. And I don’t just mean my physical appearance. I mean the spring in my step, the smile on my face and the fear in my heart. I didn’t always look this way. My optimistic thoughts and forgetful mind. I cautiously walked through life. What we run away from is what chases us. I turned and looked the demons in the eye and saw myself looking back. Afraid and confused. Wanting to reach out and love her as much as she yearned to be held. We embraced and I absorbed hear pain and released her torment. We are one. She is me and I am her. We blend our colors weaved together like a rainbow colored by our experiences. I accept us as we are and I finally love each separate thread as it shows the tapestry of my entire being.
When I was 13 I was just coming into myself, I wore all black in the sunny heat of Kissimmee, FL and I was deep into my emo phase. I had many friends that shared in my joys of anime, J-pop, My Chemical Romance and expressive poetry. Before moving back to Florida I always felt like I was weird. I have this really vivid memory of being the car with mom in elementary school. I looked out the window and stared at my classmates walking home and their faces blurred into the same image. I remember telling her that I was weird. She tried to fight me on it and say that I wasn’t but even then I knew I was different. I wasn’t like my her or my grandmother or any of my friends. It was instinctual and I had found my people.
She sat me down in the kitchen with my step dad and they asked me what I believed in. Confused I asked what they meant. They asked again more clearly, “You’ve met some new friends and things are changing so we want to know what you believe in? ” And for the first time I really shared what I thought and felt. They looked at me with concerning looks and basically the next day I found out that I would be home scholled for my 8th grade year. Out of fear of who she thought I was becoming by darkening up my clothes I was sentenced to solitary. Cut off from who I thought that I was becoming I learned a harsh lesson. To boil it down to its most potent taste “ People aren’t going to accept you as you are so if you want to be loved than you must be who they want you to be.”
And potent taste haunted me for years. So I wore as many masks as I could earn all the love of those around me. As I got older my reflexes got slower and I could no longer bear the weight of the mask, it became exhausting. But I was too afraid that without the safeguards I put in place I would drown in loneliness and despair ( if you haven’t noticed I’m kind of a drama queen). But I just couldn’t handle the weight anymore so I dropped the masks and bathed in the sun light for the first time as myself.
To me homecoming is about coming home to yourself. We all in some way transform or code switch as a means to appear likeable or worthy whatever love they choose to give. The fear of being seen as you truly are and being rejected yet again keeps us from being our authentic self. No person who happily delights in your performance of “you” is not worth listening to, they just hating on your shine ‘cause they don’t sparkle like you. When I came home to myself I had to keep reminding myself to not repeat the words I learned in my performance.
