love’s a thousand faces, but for me yours is it

I was talking earlier with a friend I’ve known for a few years — someone who didn’t know me when I was younger and full of confidence, who met me when I was headed slowly on my downward spiral of the last decade or so. His perspective is always a little different than it is with people who have known me all along, although he’s always maintained that he knows what I’m capable of being. He says the difference between me now and the person I was when I first met him is extremely noticeable. He actually commented that who I am now is intimidating for him because I’m so secure in myself, so happy with who I am.

This is somewhat parallel to a conversation I had with my parents on the phone the other day. We talked about how different I am now, and how I wouldn’t have gone through these changes if I had stayed home. These conversations made me think a little more closely about the changes I’ve gone through in the last few months. It’s not that I can ever not think about all of this — it’s always there — but sometimes it’s easy to lose myself in the moment, in the present, and not think about the journey that landed me here.

I’m still not sure how much of a person is their past, what portion of them is their present, or how much the future matters. It’s surely a combination of all these parts, but I get curious about what the precise composition is. Someone who meets me tomorrow, for example, will have no idea of the arduous trek it took me to go from who I was even this time last year, to who I am now. Does that matter? Despite being glad to be free of the chains of the “bad” parts of who I have been in the past, I still think that it very much matters who I was. The negative aspects of my history used to feel like a heavy weight upon me, but now I feel that the burden is minimal. The analogy now is more like… A stew. Yes, I am a stew. There are so many parts, so many different, separate flavours, but they have all simmered together and made one whole taste. Ugh. It’s late, and I’m tired, so I will settle for this, ridiculous as it sounds. I think the analogy is due, in part, to missing my mother’s cooking. Her stew is amazing.

I just don’t want to forget where I came from. And if I have learned anything in my as-yet short time on Earth, it’s that life is cyclical. I don’t entirely trust that this newfound contentment and security will last. I spent time being secure and happy as a child, and then I had several long, difficult years as a teenager (as I know everyone must), then another couple of good years, followed by almost a decade of general unhappiness… Now here we are again. I am all too familiar with the knowledge that nothing good lasts forever, but I have also grown to understand that neither does anything bad last indefinitely. I can only do what I can to try to prolong the good, to try to contribute to my life and to the world around me to make it the best that I can. And I can be — and am — extremely grateful to the people who have loved me through all of this, the people who have supported me and helped me make these transitions. (Thank you. Thank you. Words can never express it properly. I love you.)

Going through these emotional “growth spurts” is surreal at times. I become headily aware of the changes I’m going through, of the differences between one minute and the next. And I wonder, eagerly, where I will be next.

(listening to: Trespassers William, “Far Too Far”)

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i’ve found my way but until then i’m only spinning

Last week, I made my very first adult purchase: I bought Tupperware. I had a gift certificate to Target that was probably a year old, and I finally had a good excuse to use it. I’ve actually been using the Tupperware bowls for dishes, as well as for storage, so I guess I’m not quite a grown up yet.

Today, I came home to a delightful surprise. A while ago, my best friend from high school and I got reacquainted on Facebook. Eventually we started e-mailing, these long-winded things where we talked about everything under the sun (mostly getting caught up on the last few years). These e-mails were reminiscent of the notes we used to pass in high school. I think we went through a few notebooks just with those. 🙂

Anyway, when I got home there was a package for me. She’d asked for my address but I figured it was just to put in the address book (I do the same thing). The box was full of all kinds of goodies: instant oatmeal, relaxing bath salts, granola bars, little munchie foods. I was completely taken aback. I opened the note that came with it. She said it was a “housewarming/care package,” and wrote about how she’d gone through a similar experience (moving far away from home, relationship falling apart, learning to be on your own, the works) and how these were things that helped her through her own hard times. The note also elaborated on a few encouraging points that were intended to make me feel better, and stronger (and succeeded!). Then she included some old photos from high school, some pictures from our senior all-night party and senior service day, photos of me and various old friends in an assortment of happy moments. On the envelope they came in, it says, “A couple of oldies, but goodies, to remind you of home.” There’s even a rubber duckie in there, I guess to go with the bath salts.

It’s funny how sometimes things seem to find you at just the right moment in time. I’ve had a lot of those occasions since I moved here — probably in part because I am perpetually in need of love and reassurances, and partly because I am one of the luckiest people in the world when it comes to being blessed with people who love me. I really am.

To those of you who just keep on being so loving, caring, kind, and supportive of me (even when I continue to give you plenty of reasons to stop): you have no idea how much it means to me, how much I appreciate it. I hope I’m able to reciprocate it enough, and if I’m not, I hope someday I will have it in me to be that good.

(listening to: Jack’s Mannequin, “Spinning”)

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