The Reckoning // The Relapse

I moved to Nashville at 22 with nothing but clothes, records, a few movies, two lamps, and a car. I was on a complete high of getting away from everything I’d ever known. I went to cosmetology school, but I didn’t get that fresh new start college gives you. I viewed moving 450 miles from home as that in my journey. 

Now I’m 25, and I’m redirecting sight on my long term vision. I’ve already achieved higher education, a big move, and a long-term relationship. On top of that, I’m already five years into my career. I really don’t know what else to “accomplish,” and the long-term has became blurry. 

I feel like I’ve gotten so used to the life routine my partner and I have created that I have lost touch of my own wants and desires for myself. I was raised to be practical, and a big lesson for me has been allowing myself to dream. That turned into a need to prove everyone wrong; that dreams can happen. 

He keeps me grounded; and while yes I need that, I need whimsy in my life too. I’ve completely shut out that side of myself for reasons unbeknownst; mostly from trying to stabilize my career, and again, routine.

I would never say I grew up unstable, but I would say that I grew up with a lot of instability. Finding, creating, and ensuring stability has been quite a challenge for me. I always sought it out— but when you know chaos you always crave it a little, even unconsciously. And it will follow you until you stop following it. 

As soon as security was in my grasp, I completely disregarded my free side because I thought it meant I was immature, wrong, and bad. 

But I really need that side of myself. I always will. 

The more I disregard my creative side, the more I have found myself fantasizing about life more than living in it. Living in other characters shoes while abandoning my own. I find myself talking conversations in my head with made up scenarios, listening to music, watching shows, and thinking through the correlations to my own life and potentials. Sitting with myself and wondering: ‘Is it possible for me to have that experience, too? Is it bad to want more?’

In my mind I become all the things I’m not. I’ve found this as my safe haven, a place I developed very young when I didn’t find a safe place or when I didn’t feel understood— I escaped to a place in my mind to meet my needs. A place I’m not shut out. A place I’m prioritized and recognized by people I deep sea dive for. 

Essentially, I have realized I sit in my head to feel seen in places no one makes an effort to catch. 

Where did this stem from and how does this play into holding me back during adulthood?

Around the age of twelve, my young developing brain adored my favorite bands. I loved relating to their music, watching every interview, catching all the tv appearances, reading interviews, reading fan-fiction. This continued on in phases, each a bit different to the eras of my life I was in. Obviously a twelve year old fangirl isn’t the same as a twenty one year old one. But the core insecurity was the same: I was trying to find myself in others, these people who seem so untouchable— and camaraderie amongst other fans. A place to belong. 

This has leaked into other areas of life; mostly with interpersonal relationships, and historically, an affinity for men with Peter Pan syndrome. Most of all, my relationship with myself. 

And here I am at 25 realizing I’m outgrowing the mental patterns I created to survive, while simultaneously hating not feeling seen or understood. It gets lonely sometimes, living in my own head. I feel like the Babylonian gardens. Do I even exist? 

Life has became almost robotic. 

Wake up, get ready for work, work all day long, come home to chores piled up from burn out, crawl into bed and put on a show to escape the horror show my life has become. 

If I can’t have my dreams, at least I can escape my reality in a character. I’m the deer in headlights. 

The problem is that I don’t even know what my dreams are. I’ve created the life I was pressured to. But the pressure inside of me is building, too; the car is nearing, and I’m still stuck in my tracks. 

I want to be a traveler, a writer, a teacher, a student of all kinds of things. I wish I could study everything and be an omniscient presence. A person who’s seen all of the world. A person who knows every language, all the history of each ancient civilization, every person’s story lost in time.

I’ve become the Peter Pan. 

I’m brought back to this body and I’m just a girl who moved to a city far from home with a job I chose for survival. While I do enjoy it most days, there’s always that side of me who is begging for more out of this life. Like, this surely can’t be all I get, right? Right?

In an instant, I’m lost in my head all over again. Trying to break the chain of survival, trying to integrate the presence of being in my body, trying to find something to make me feel alive again. Lighting every match til I burn my finger, throw it on the ground, and watch everything implode; and I love the warmth of the fire. 

The car makes contact. ​