« Why We Now Need More Women Building the Social Web | Main | I Only Have Maternal Feelings for Websites »

06 October 2009

Don't Call it a Comeback

6a00c2251f58b7549d00c2252b713b549d-500pi You know that feeling when you meet someone really hot, smart, funny that happens to have the same favorite color as you (and! whose star sign is totally compatible with yours - not that you checked or anything...)?

You feel all warm and fuzzy. You can't sleep. Your mind whirls! You're grinning! You're spinning! And then they totally just texted you to say good night and that they loved meeting you and then SNAP! now you can't sleep?

The next morning, you still have that feeling. You try to tell yourself that this feeling will wear off. If you give it too much attention, it will suddenly be like, "Dude, I'm just like a sugar rush, I will leave you! Leave you feeling cold, broken and disappointed!" And then it will spit on your shoes.

If you try to examine it, awknowledge it, or even tell anyone else, surely this feeling will fade. 

You will stop spinning and twirling and looking at everything with new life.

It's like tying to hold on to giant bubble. It will either pop in your face, or blow away and then pop. Either way, you will be sans bubble. 

This is how I feel. I've not felt this way since I met Iain, decided that I wanted to move to London, and then just fucking did it. No money. No job. Just a loose plan and my gut feeling that everything was going to work out.

Maybe developing a normal life over here smooshed that feeling a little bit. Maybe I fell into old habits. Maybe I got tunnel vision. Maybe I got so run down that my swift-kicking inner fighter decided to take a nap or go on auto-pilot. 

But yesterday, it was like she woke up. 

And I went... OH. That's what I've been missing. 

It's like my anger ate her. My fear had sewn her lips shut. And then the psychological shit that everyone has dumped on me over the past two years cut off her balls. 

The poor dear. 

I don't want to say "the bitch is back" or that it's a "comeback". I don't know if she's really back, but it's like I heard her drop her house keys on the table and drop off her laptop bag in the bedroom. I can feel her here. 

I'm afraid of scaring her off, bursting the bubble, that I'm just going to let her lurk around the house and my psyche, and make herself at home. I'll ask her about rent and shit when I now she's settled and for sure staying for a while. 

I suppose this is just my peace offering to her. I'm sorry that I silenced her. I'm sorry she got lost. I'm sorry that I let people chip away at her after I did so much work to get her here in the first place. 

So, here's my white flag. 

I'm listening.

Ready when you are.

Photo is on my flight over to the UK, when I moved in 2006. 

TrackBack

TrackBack URL for this entry:
http://www.typepad.com/services/trackback/6a01127918b0fe28a40120a619ac67970c

Listed below are links to weblogs that reference Don't Call it a Comeback:

Comments

Feed You can follow this conversation by subscribing to the comment feed for this post.

Hmm for a second here I thought this was you coming out and telling the world about our wonderful romance. I guess I was wrong.

This is a beautiful post, and as a fellow expat, I can completely relate to it. Once again, your brains put into words very eloquently what mine has been struggling to do for years.
You are so clever, I love you <3

xxx

I know that feeling! Years ago, somehow, I completely lost myself. Long story. But I had that sudden moment of clarity, or waking up. A realisation that this wasn't me. So, I let down my hair, got my warpaint back on and came back to London to pick up where I'd left off. My best friend said, "Welcome back. I've missed you." And she wasn't talking about my return to the UK. It was all about the inner Amazon.
Decades of women's rights, and yet we still retreat inside, become frightened of who we really are, hide our strength. I don't have an answer for why we do that, it just shocks me that we do.
Hope your housemate sticks around ;)

(stumbled here from BitchBuzz.com. Oh the joys of hyperlinks.)

That feeling of not being able to sleep really is great isn't it? The whole infatuation stage is so lovely.
I really wish I had a photo of when I made the move to London. Great that you had one taken and still have it :]

Beautiful post. This is actually what I need after a long day.

The comments to this entry are closed.

Photo Booth

Tweet Much?

Recent Comments

Side Dishes