I woke up at 4 am and organized my bathroom. My head is full of heaviness that transfers to my body. Divorce is messy people say. I never knew what that meant. Spaghetti is messy. Glittery art projects are messy. Moving on from a situation that no longer serves you should be easy. Seamless. A done deal without sabotage, deceit or cruelty. It should be done respectfully without the entanglement of a third party. But people suck.
I recently went on a solo weekend trip to Clearwater Florida. Just me and my lonesome. I’ve always been a solitary person, only child remember? But I’ve come to realize that I’ve been a solidarity person out of insecurity. I’ve always chosen to hide, go unnoticed, fly under the radar so not to cause any disturbances in the life swirling around me. Now I choose to be alone because I enjoy my company. I choose to spend time unattended as a thank you to myself. I wanted three days of sunshine. Three days of waking up whenever I wanted to, go to bed at 8:30, to order room service but only get dessert for 2/3 meals.
I had several experiences during my self discovery mission. I love being able to take notice of certain occurrences and chuckle at their serendipitous impact.
Upon arrival, my Uber driver questioned what I was doing there alone. Then came the typical questions of spousal arrangement, children and from where I was traveling.
I told my driver a small fraction of information regarding my “situation.” At times it feels as if I’m not telling the truth when I retell my “story.” It feELs like I’m embellishing. Making up some dramatic narrative that I’m working out for my latest scandalous fiction novel that I plan on peddling to local CVS’s. But alas no.
Upon reaching the hotel my driver got out of the car, took my suitcase out of the trunk and looked at me like a father would at his daughter. He had compassion in his eyes and concern in his frame as he stretched out his arms and said, “Would it be OK if I gave you a hug?”
I giggled and said, “Sure.” He hugged me tight while saying, “You’ll be OK. You’ll pull through this.”
Without over thinking the fact that my Uber driver was offering compassionate concern adhered with physical contact I thanked him, grabbed my bag and continued onto my destination.
It’s ironic because although odd and one would think out of place, it didn’t seem strange. I’ve received more compassion, sympathy and empathy from strangers than those that were once thought of as a guarantee staple in my life. Although yes, dogs only forever and always, I guess not allll humans suck.
The next self realization pebble of wisdom came as I was departing. As if it was a period at the end of my self discovered sentence.
My physical appearance is that of a non symmetrical form. A bit lopsided for the time being. But because I don’t feel like it’s my permanent form, because I’ve learned how to disconnect my psyche from my physical state defining who I am, I often opt out of wearing the bewble (technical term) prosthesis.
While traveling through security at the airport my luggage was searched and my newly purchased lotion was confiscated. DAMN ITTTTTT that was some good shit. Noting my disappointment a deliciously hulking, 6’4 beast of a man offered to personally (wink wink) walk me downstairs to the baggage claim so I could check my bag and keep my purchase.
While walking next to my newly acquainted personal airport transport I felt small yet bold. Like I should ask him to be placed in his pocket just in case. You know, for security purposes.
I decide to make the talk small, “How tall are you?” He chuckled, “I’m 6’4.”
“Holy fuck,” I responded wholeheartedly taken a back by his answer. “That’s big. Do you like, pick stuff up and put them down just cuz you can?” Ensue more giggles and a blush, “I don’t often do that but maybe I should,” he replied.
And then came the comment heard round the world. The bombshell of atomic gut punches. “Yeah, but you’re stronger than I am,” he said with a warm smile, a slight head tilt and a glance at the sunken spot that “should” be filled.
Enter a mixture of emotions. I didn’t know where to go with this. I wish I could have seen my face. It was probably a mix of shock, surprise, humiliation, borderline puke, peppered in with a splash of forced acceptance. Initially I thought he was referencing my newly toned shoulders as I haveeeee been doing push ups these last few days. But I quickly realized what he was referring to.
First instinct, run. Cover up. I’ve been seen, caught. YOU SOCIAL DERELICT YOU. Second instinct, laugh. Laugh? Why? Is it funny? I mean sometimes, but no, not really. Third instinct, gratitude. “Thank you,” I said locking eyes with his. They were sincere and glistening a bit.
In the end I accomplished what I had been putting out into the “world.” I put on my black tank top that day without the placement of a plastic prosthesis because this is about me. It’s about how I perceive my body. Why should I care if other people take notice of my body’s physical form. In fact, take notice. TAKE IT ALL IN FOLKS like a big glass of ice cold fucking lemonade on a hot summer day.
This is my body. We have a relationship of love, pain, upheaval, solitude and acceptance. We went through this. We are going through this. Warrior walking. Make way.
