Day 34: existential {dread}
It took 10 years for me to feel disappointed in myself. 10 years of looking in the mirror… I stare in the mirror a lot. Often and I mean quite often. Examining my face. Smiling at myself. Like trying on an outfit—I’m still adjusting to the human suit. Trying to form a connection. What am I in my purest form? Who am I without flesh? (Literally) Without my actions or words? What matter is spirit made from? What color is my heart? What color is my light? I stare deep into my eyes in the mirror. Just hoping to get a glimpse of what you see when you look at me. I am me. But to exist at is to exist subjectively. I know me as, Me, but you know me as, “Morgan”.
There are parts of me so shrouded and bound by complexity that I can’t decipher it at all. Things I don’t understand. Things that always have been and may always be. Chipping a way at the rest trying to find myself somewhere in the marble. It’s taken 10 years of reflection to get a good read on my own behavior, mindsets and presets. I’ve had to re-hack my brain to rewire and connect to make it make sense. There is not one seed that has been planted in my head by another that goes on questioned or examined.
I remember when I would redefine myself as I heard things that I liked or sounded like I would want to be like. Back when I chose my reflection in the mirror. All was vanity. Vanity never felt right. Excess never felt right. I wanted to be as close to my natural self and let that define me. So I cast my inhibitions on the road to recovering and let the inward light guide the path. I am who I am. But we’re just starting to get acquainted.
I took a little break in between this paragraph and the one above it. I realize how I have always held myself to an unachievable standard of perfection. I cannot be mad at my 15 year old self. I can’t go back in time and punish my self now for what I did with the mind of a child. But I can hold regret for the moments lost and wisdom for the future.
Two thousand twelve was the Summer of Love for me, but back then love had only one definition. It was not complex or versatile but like a deep deep well where the sky-like vastness of it is dwindles to looking through the opening of a straw. Boy likes girl, girl likes boy, and that was it. I hadn’t experienced a death yet {not one that directly effected my life}. And I knew friendship but I was self-entitled to have friends, I loved them but I would not grieve them like I would a failed hetero relationship.
One thing Indiana knows how to get right is a State Fair. It’s a blast. The best grilled corn you’ve ever had and some of the best memories I’ve ever had. August 2012 was a very transitional time. I had choices. In Michigan my mother and auntie would collaborate together on event design (Opulent Affairs). My mommy on floral and auntie on designing the space. It was Paige’s open house. Paige was (is) my oldest friend. Like singing along to Confessions on the radio in the back seat old. Like Mario Party 3 on the Game Cube old. Cheetah Girls old. And before then our parents were childhood-adulthood friends. She’s a year older than me but you would have thought we were born at the same time. If I was pink, she was blue. Our relationship was one of those reasons my childhood was as rich as it was. Today I value her in the most ancient parts of my heart for being that in my life.
At the same time, death was at the door in our family. My older cousin, Danielle, but we called her, ‘Precious’. Long before Sapphire ever stained the name, that truly was what she was. She was a crown jewel in the family. Her heart was just too golden. I loved her so much. We were 15 years a part and she always treated me like me. —I don’t know if they’ve ever reflected upon the truth but the culture on my dads side of the family is extremely Ageist. As a child I felt a streak of brilliance in me but around them I just talked too much(although I’m sure its true). When truly I was just born inquisitive and was coaxed into feeling agency over my voice by my mother. But children have their place. That was our culture and it is OUR culture as well. But Presh didn’t dismiss me or right me off, she listened and I loved her for that. I didn’t know how to process it when she was fading. I can’t even remember how I felt. I think I blocked it all out— actually, I certainly blocked it all out and dove into my well, thirsty for a drink.
It was a time to surround Paige with support into the next chapter in her life. Paige is a beast on the Track—and I’ve never seen her run. At some point and time I stopped showing up for her. Probably when I moved out of state. I’ve always been bad at long distance. I got used to living in the world directly around me because I could control it easier. It was the last time to say goodbye to Presh. I had choices. At the same time in Indiana, the Youth Group had our annual State Fair trip planned. D.T.T. was going and my mind ran rampant with possibilities. I’d already seen what I wanted for myself on TV and the time for a boy to win me a prize was finally at reach. I had choices.
10 years it’s taken me to miss what I missed with that decision. Paige I am sorry I didn’t go to your open house. You deserved for me to show up for you and I did not. Please forgive me.
I understand now that death was just too permanent and out of reach for my mind to fathom at that time in my life. I was still in my “bad things don’t happen to us” mindset. The divorce was a shock to the system but not enough to break it. I believed that was my one bad thing to happen in my life; the dismantling of my family. Today whats left of it is scattered from the North to the South. Unconsciously, there was no room for anymore tragedy, I drew my line in the sand. And told myself I was entitled to have this moment of romance if just for a few hours. The stories we tell ourselves…
But I gained nothing from that experience but a land mine waiting to detonate and send bits of insecurity shrapnel all over my body. As I aforementioned, I was not in love with my first love because of anything other than who he was as a person. I have always been thicker than most my age and he had always been slim and muscular, no more than 4ish inches taller than me (5’2). None of it mattered—until that day. It’s a wonder how fast an insecurity can be planted.
I wanted to sit on the outside but the ride conductor made us switch. It was one of my favorite rides. I don’t remember the name exactly but I recall the word “remix”. Modern Music and lights play while you travel in a circular path as if you were on a wave. Centrifugal force —the reason why you fall on the person to the left of you in the backseat when the car turns right. In the cars behind us were friends from Y.G. The ride starts and all seems well until maximum speed is reached. I tried so hard to keep myself from having all my weight on him at once. I tried so hard, but who am I against forces that be. I don’t know which happened first, him yelling out as if he were being crushed or someone (male) behind me calling out “AhHa! Morgan butt is squishing $@#!”. At the time I didn’t realize it but I was humiliated. By then Norbit was a family favorite plus my mother was fat and ranged in different levels my whole life. (Call a spade a spade and shame the devil for telling you a lie). I never thought of my mother as not being beautiful but I knew I didn’t want to be fat. I went to school with girls who wore a 0 and sizes often came up in conversations. My dad would never admit it but I was always sure her weight was a contributing factor in his decision to dip on her. And for my size to be made a mockery of, even for a moment in relation to the guy I loved? It never left me.
As years progressed I would never ever let a man try to pick me up. Another time comes to mind where there was a another male voice. This time the Y.G was at Madison’s house. She had a pool in the backyard. He picked me up in the water and someone yelled “Damn $@#* you strong!”—Like how is that supposed to make me feel...? Heavy. It made me feel heavy and it gave me a complex about dating men who were slimmer than me or short. Luckily that has faded I have relearned to love people for who they are and embrace their natural—I have what have and am who I am (too). But to this day I probably won’t sit on your lap or fully sit on your face. Just a light hover.
In remembrance of theses moments I questioned if I were good. How could one be so selfish to put a boy before her family and best friend? Whatever my reasoning in my heart back then, I see now that I needed to embrace Love. And seek and cherish it in all of it forms. Mine it wherever it lies. So, that means right now too.
Morgan, I forgive you.
///Sheesh. That was a lot.
