Have you ever felt like you cracked open? Like every event, every emotion, there ever was fell out of your chest and onto the world for full view? Today I felt like that and before my jet-lag dissipates and the fog leaves the hills once more and daylight enters, I will share it with you. Come tomorrow, having a clear head, I will once again want to sweep this story under the carpet. For now though, the hills are covered in fog and I feel safe and secure, sitting half asleep in my bed, writing.
Journeys end in lovers meeting, or so Shakespeare said. Traveling for me has always been a way of life. I have been blessed to see many places, I have had wonderful adventures and I have met some astounding people. Traveling has also always given me perspective – you cannot look at your life from the same point of view when you are looking at it from a different place, under different circumstances. What’s more, my passion for traveling has given me an excuse to always leave people and places before they leave me. I never worry what others think of me, because I don’t live there anyway. I don’t really care, so I feel free, independent and happy, but today I got sick of traveling. I don’t want to need to be constantly running to feel happy. After having my sister calling me yesterday complaining about not having seen me for eight months and a friend crying as I left London town, I just realized it’s about time I face up to it, if I want to end my journey in a loving meeting, rather than as soon as I want to become part of a town, a social circle, or a man, feel like I’m being judged and lose my self-confidence and start running all over again to feel safe, secure and confident.
Today I saw the movie The Time Traveler’s Wife on the plane. It wasn’t a good movie, it was poorly executed, but to me it meant the world to watch it, because suddenly I saw my life in a completely new light. I saw how it would have looked like from a time traveler’s perspective and what it would have been like having myself come back from the future to tell me not to be scared when things were rough.
If you could watch your life, your story, as a movie, what would you think of the protagonist? Would you not see your life in a different light? If you could go back in time and hold your own hand when you were a kid… If you could hug that kid and tell him or her what s/he really needed to know…what would you say?
Man do I wish there had been someone there to hold me when my mom was dying, telling me life is not all that scary. I wish there was someone who would have told me there was nothing wrong with me when the bullies were calling me names, or my step-mom was yelling at me. Lord do I wish there’d been someone to tell me that just because the boys didn’t like me, I wasn’t unlovable. When people asked me if I was anorexic because I was skinny, I wish there’d been someone there to tell me that skinny is pretty too. I wish someone would have just made me understand how gorgeous a person I was. What a beautiful human being I was. How lovable I was.
I really feel for the girl I once was. Watching it from the outside, all the panic, the fear, the sadness, the loneliness she felt and how she blamed herself over and over again for it. It seems absurd now, but she thought she was worthless because it was all her fault. She hated herself for others leaving her, or being mean to her. She kept trying to identify what was wrong with her. Why she was unlovable and how to solve it. There had to be something strange, because she was not mean to people, so why were they mean to her? What was wrong with her?
At the age of seventeen I went to Vancouver. One night, due to a row of events, I had a panic attack, only I didn’t know what it was. As it happened my host mom was angry with me, so she thought I was faking it and left me lying in a heap on the floor – only opening the door to the garden for fresh air. I had to crawl up on my own. I couldn’t call my dad as he was away in travels. It was too late to call someone in Vancouver. So I sat there thinking I might just die. I then swore that if I survived I would open a nursery for street children as no one should have to feel like I did then and there, or for that matter, other times in my childhood too. No one. Yet, I felt no sympathy for the girl who sat there herself. She was just a girl who on a daily basis fought her own insecurities, thinking the world would never love her unless she made herself more outgoing and cool. Unless she succeeded in becoming rich and famous. Her only true friend was her dreams – they didn’t hurt her. They just fueled her. So she set out to achieve them and her whole life changed. So did she, but the thoughts on the inside never completely changed. Not until today. Not until I saw that movie.
Do you know what your eyes look like when you feel loved? Do you know how they sparkle? Do you know how beautiful you are? Look at your hands – do they ever make something for you? Look at your feet – do they ever take you places? Look at your mouth – does it ever make you taste things? Look at you – aren’t you gorgeous? Aren’t you worth all the love in the world? Isn’t that just a beautiful person?