The year of firsts
The year of firsts after a life-changing transformation is less about your loss being an anomaly or a glitch in the universe and more about a change in perception that is, quite unfortunately, happening right on time, alongside the chaotic unfolding of everything else.
And I’ve done this before. I’ve lost things. I’ve lost parts of myself. I’ve lost people who meant the world to me.
This last year was something else, though.
If I am being honest, I secretly craved those ugly moments of humanity when someone was rude to me, harsh with me, or downright awful. It made me feel as if nothing had happened to me, as if this last year hadn’t happened (and a few leading up to it). I felt just like everyone else. Whether these interactions happened at work, in a store, with loved ones, or sitting in a doctor’s office, it didn’t matter.
Snap at me. Say something awful. Insult me in an offhand way because you think I can take it, and maybe I don’t matter.
I loved it.
I looked forward to it.
It was a relief from being me.
For a split second, I felt normal and curled myself up in the eddy that was formed behind the verbal rocks being thrown at me while I felt like I was drowning.
It was almost a superpower, something to take me out of my head, out of the moment, out of the constant overthinking about how I feel about everything, and helped me avoid the question that bangs on my door in the middle of the night, every night, the ever aggressive “what are you going to DO about this?”
Every once in a while, there would be an interaction so tender or bittersweet that it would break my heart and tug at my sleeve to bring me back into the moment. Something most of us would typically overlook. A sentence in an email. A look. An awkward mistake. An oddly placed revealing statement about themselves that had me blinking back tears. Something almost indescribable would move through the moment like a cool breeze on a hot day.
Grace. Unearned favor. Lifelines disguised in quiet vulnerability and kindness.
Sometimes, it was imperceptible, and yet, still, almost much too much.