“The best way to get to know a city and make interesting discoveries about it is to go Get Lost”.
The longer I am here the more everything I think and feel and do comes under (my own) scrutiny and is up for questioning. The simplest seeming impulse or “need” or choice I make now shrieks out as if under a blinding light and I am forced to look at “where did this come from and what does it mean to me/ what does it say to others?”. A friend recently said “you seem free”, and I thought “free? or LOST!!!”… maybe they are one and the same… I dunno - things are intensifying here for me, tho, and it seems I bounce more frequently and violently between the extremes of hopeful anticipation about the possibilities and deep panic and the desire to RUN & get the hell out of here asap! One major clarity that is emerging is that I have nowhere to run to “anymore”… I have wondered why even though I default to thinking of SF as my home, the place I could briefly return to and dip into, the home of many many dear and beautiful friends, the impulse bounces back on me, as if in recoil… and now I’m realizing that the one refuge I felt I had in the world was not actually a place, but a person… Andrew. That relationship was, in fact, my “home”, my no-matter-what-i’ve-got-your-back “place”… not saying that’s ideal or healthy or romantic or anything, just realizing that when I have these fleeting bouts of low-grade panic that compel me to escape, I am now coming up hard & fast against this realization - nowhere to escape to because the “where” was actually a “who” and that “who” is no longer in my life. It’s the same realization over and over again, of course - the No Ground, No Escape (no security, no family, no home, no job)… just interesting to understand, on what feels like a deeper layer, the true nature of what/who I have tried to anchor myself with… I can’t say it has occurred to me quite like this before. This groping for the EJECT button actually surfaces pretty rarely, but it seems pain/illness is the one thing that elicits this primal cry for mama-safety-home-protection. It’s a visceral/ brainstem thing, quite bypassing the higher brain altogether, and it “thinks” in pictures - image-sensations of having been held & healed, cared for & comforted, seen and loved. Now my comfort comes from a cool and reasoned appraisal of the situation; “you’re here. you're not dying. breathe.” …it’s not as cozy, but not without its merits!!!
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December 2016
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