Moving Forwards by Moving Backwards?

Yesterday was "going backwards" day for me.  I spent the day with people who I haven't seen in twenty years or more.  The first part of the day was spent at the surprise 40th Birthday Party for someone who graduated two years before me...but left a huge impression on my life during my high school years.  To help her enter into this new decade of life were other high school friends.  I'd forgotten how much I really enjoyed these people.  The last part of the day was spent at my 20th Reunion. 

I usually dread going to these things...even though I "helped" with setting it up.  I didn't always feel like I fit into any group/clique at school...perhaps I did that to myself more than anything...but everyone seemed so set and I always felt like I had to try so hard to be part of the conversations, planning, just plain being liked.  I always felt like I was on the outside looking in (see an older post.)  But at the same time, I also felt like I had this huge secret to hide.  My  mother was suicidal and often in the psych wards across the state.  I was helping my father raise my brother's....who were so far from angels.  And I didn't want anyone to know what was going on.  A few people really close to me did, but for the most part...I think everyone might have just thought I was the standoffish girl who couldn't afford to go to Tabers, Roys, the Mall....so why bother asking.  And from my point of view....I perhaps just tried too damn hard to fit in.  I should have just stayed true to myself instead of trying to encompass the personalities and likes of those around me.  I should have not been ashamed of my life....after all, it made me who I am today....and I'm kinda liking me, for the most part.

One of the things I found most interesting last night was the comments on my facebook posts and my blogs.  At first I wasn't sure how to take them....some of my facebook posts are done at really bad times and someone should really take my phone away...some of them I honestly post to make people scratch their heads and see if they are paying attention.  As for my blog...this space is for me...this is my therapy.  I share it because, selfishly, I'm hoping that some thing in here helps someone....maybe gives that teenage gir,l in a seemingly impossible situation, some insight and respite.  But one of the things I realized in the last 36 hours is that sometimes to move forward, you have to move backwards.  You have to revisit the past, find those people that made you feel good and relive it...get a good firm grasp of who you were in order to become who you will be.

Paths

Everyday at work, I've been trying to go for a walk on Oak Hill Trail.  The trail is beginner level, has a few hills and a winding path.  Within the first ten minutes of the trail, I always come across this wood shed.  The first time I walked it, I was with a friend and it prompted a conversation about mass murderers and people in scary movies who ALWAYS go to the shed...I mean really...not a smart idea.  Don't they know what happens when you do that?  It never ends well...Freddy, Jason, Michael Myers might be in there....just biding their time until some poor, unsuspecting schmuck comes along. 

My friend tells me, every time I walk, to go to the shed  and look in.  He's tried telling me that there are unicorns and butterflies in there. And each time I say "Um, no."  But yesterday as I walked I got to thinking....what an awesome metaphor this is for me! 

I've always followed "the path."  Not sure who decided the path that I'm on...but I've always followed it.  I'm not sure if it's fear or a sense of "right" that keeps me on this path.  It's not a path that I'm completely happy with.  I stifle a lot of stuff until it comes bubbling to the surface and causes shock waves all around me.  I get frustrated at holding myself back from being....me.  So, maybe it's time to take that leap of faith and look in the shed?  Perhaps, I will find "me" locked up in there waiting to be released.......

Swimming

Anyone who really knows me knows that the one thing I love most about summer is the water. Lake water, ocean water...it doesn't matter as long as it can be used to immerse my body in, I love it. I've been swimming for as long as I can remember. In fact, I don't ever remember NOT swimming over my head. I love the way the water feels on my skin. I love how I feel refreshed after taking a dip. I love to lounge on a float in the water for hours at a time.

I think part of the reason water is so important to me is that it was the one activity that my family did that seemed normal to me. There was no yelling, no hitting, no control issues, no struggles...we were a family at the beach or pond or in their pool. Most of the time we got along. My brothers and I buried each other in sand, made forts, played catch. It was, much like music was, a respite for me. I could leave the suicidal mom, the angry dad, the delinquent brothers, and the feelings of inadequacies and leave them behind for that short moment in time.

Water is a part of me. It's a part of who I am. It's one of the activities that I love the most...being in the water. To understand and to accept me, you really have to understand that it's something I really love. Take it away from me...and it's like taking music out of my life. I need it. I want it. I couldn't exist in a world where being in the water wasn't allowed.

I guess the point is that we all have some hard limits in our lives. I like my summer activities to surround water. It's why we live in the house we live in. I spend too many months staring longingly at the lake yearning for swimming season. I have a few short months to enjoy it. So, if you're trying to reach me....and I'm not around....look in the lake.