All I know is that when I make my choice to go hurtling ’round the bend, there isn’t much that can stop me.
I spin my storyline. I tell myself a tall tale of scary. I work myself up into a lather. Most of all: I MAKE IT MY MISSION TO HEAD OUT OF TOWN. I MAKE IT MY MISSION TO SKEDADDLE AWAY, QUICKLY.
I read this article once in the LA WEEKLY written by Dan Savage called Love Sucks and the premise of the article was that when love is present, everything that isn’t love rises to the surface in order to be healed and this is why so many relationships fail. Because when all that isn’t love rises to the surface, people make it their mission to scurry.
I remember thinking, when I read this essay 25 years ago, that this would explain my wild animal behavior when I came within several miles of what felt mildly like love. I remember feeling less ashamed. Most of all, though, I felt a large blanket of cozy relief cover me and I said to myself YOU SHOULD KEEP GOING. YOU SHOULD BUCKLE YOUR SEATBELT AND TRY TO FIGURE OUT HOW TO NAVIGATE THIS HIDEOUS, ENCHANTING, ALARMING TERRAIN.
And as time has marched on and I have arduously spent my days peeling back the walls that had previously reinforced my WHEN IN DOUBT, FLEE! strategy I came to know that, although it is terribly true that when love is present all that is NOT love rises to the surface to be healed, it is ALSO true that all that isn’t love IS SO MUCH LOUDER than anything kind.
And so my prayer for myself is that I remember the extra cushioning and helmets and understanding needed in order for me to muster up enough courage and momentum to propel me around the next bright, shiny, terrifying bend.
Irma I’m Outta Here, Kinda