We’ve been up in our home town for the past few weeks, doing some art business and visiting with family and friends. It’s always a very reflective time, and sometimes morphs into some serious soul-searching, a process which can feel like a house of mirrors to me. Very Alice in Wonderland, and the DRINK ME potions make me feel small and then tall in the most confusing ways. Do you ever have those times, when you try to figure out who you really are or what you’re feeling, and everything looks distorted and uncertain?

 

The past few years have been a process of weeding my way through various grief mazes, and now that I’m out of the worst of it maybe, I realize how distorted some of my thinking was along the way. I didn’t know it at the time, of course. In the midst of it you think you’re handling it, doing okay, but you’re mercifully out of touch with the reality of how you’re REALLY behaving. I had moved to Floridee shortly before my process started, so many of my Floridee friends only know that Kevan, the stunned, deer in the headlights, shell of a Kevan. I sometimes wish I could post a public disclaimer, or wear a sandwich board proclaiming “Do Over!” or “That’s not who I REALLY am, I swear”…. but I guess maybe part of it must be? I don’t know, and therein lies some of my current confusion.

 

It’s like trying to grab those tiny pieces of eggshell from the yolk. Your fingers feel all fat and overgrown, and the shell pieces keep moving just ahead of you always. At a party the other night, someone whom I’m really coming to dig deeply said he liked my writing for my “vulnerability,” and I thought really? Came home and started reading in this very blog…. starting being the operative word. I could only get through the first entry and half of the second. Took me like two hours and I was completely overwhelmed… slightly horrified… kind of embarrassed. And yes, my most present adverb companion of late, CONFUSED. Honestly, I have little recollection of writing those words. I felt like I was reading a book from the library, a very intrusive, in your face kind of book that followed me home, snuck into my reading pile, and then leapt into my consciousness without my permission. But then, that does kind of sound like me.

 

I think sometimes our feelings churn and brew inside in a smoking cauldron, noxious fumes rising, with eye of newt and frog’s legs poking out occasionally….until we have to finally, blindly RELEASE. This is usually when my hair gets dyed purple or blue. Because the process isn’t always malevolent or even negative. Sometimes it’s just passion or creativity percolating and rising to the surface. And I don’t even feel like my written words were bad or necessarily problematic. They were just so…naked. And maybe uninvited. You know, you’re reading a blog thinking maybe you’ll pick up a few good recipes and then you realize the writer has slit her wrists and is bleeding profusely all over your bright sunny morning. It’s not BAD, but it may be a bit presumptuous of me to think you’d WANT to deal with all that blood and guts while pleasantly scrolling through Facebook. I basically stripped without an invite. But then, that’s kind of me too…. (I know, forgive me for that image I just planted into your poor brain. See what I mean, LOL?!)

 

These thoughts were running in the background all week, and then this morning I had the opportunity to meet a woman whom I’ve been hearing about for a while, hearing enough to know I was gonna like her. I knew she read my blog and she must have gotten a similar build-up from our generous mutual friend, for her first words to me were about “kissing the ring.” I’m inclined to love anyone who starts off with a wisecrack, and soon we were right in the thick of it all, discussing the challenges of parenting, i.e., keeping parental pain secret vs. being open in the hope of healing. I love someone who gets right to it. Yeah, I’m definitely back in jerzey.

 

Both of these two sisters encouraged me in my “naked writing,” and their timing couldn’t have been better. (Or worse, if you’re a reader who cringes at my over-sharing. And if so, I feel you, I really do.) Because now I’m wondering if even this journeying, this stumbling down the road but still moving forward kind of step, if maybe this is just what it looks like to go on. Maybe many of us walk this way (Aerosmith howl), maybe limping is the human condition. Or maybe it’s more of a baffled-human condition, but if so, that’s okay too.  If I’ve learned anything in recent years, it’s how little I really know. I used to think I had so many answers all buttoned down tightly in my head…now I’ve come to realize maybe my whole head was just buttoned too tightly, period. Now I’m letting some breeze in, airing out some cobwebs. I vacillate between confidence and fear, trust and shame, but at least I’m moving. More of a crablike skittering, but hey, I’m in jerzey. It kinda works.

 

 

 

 

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2 thoughts on “Drink Me

  1. I disagree with everything you just said in this post. To me, your fabulous hair color-of-the-week, confused Alice in Wonderland look and your naked (in all ways) vulnerability are what make you the Kevan I have come to know and worship completely. If drinking that potion is what has made you who you are today, then girl, KEEP ON DRINKING. And save me a swig or ten.

    Liked by 1 person

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