When the Past Catches up – A Review

Hi.

I am currently experiencing discontent.

I am currently experiencing discontent because I have, by all accounts, a weird set of parameters that guide my life.

One. I scare easy, I need to feel safe.

Two. I love trying new things, I need to experiment and have novel experiences.

Three. I constantly compare myself to others and crave approval.

Four. I’m an introvert who hates attention and will generally default to being alone.

Five. I don’t let things go and I’ve got a lot of baggage.

All five of these are why I would rather be sitting in a corner, crying, listening to whiny folk music than sitting in this desk chair writing a blog that I don’t even want to publish. But all five of these are also why I’m sitting in a desk chair, writing a blog that I probably will publish.

Currently, my past is weighing heavier on me than I think it ever has. A couple of years ago, I had a rough go in a situation that was supposed to be my safety net. I looked for affection and found misery. I scooted closer and found distance. I looked into the void and it was full.

Ever since peeling myself away, I’ve been half of myself. I’ve always lived in a world where part of my brain was dealing with the “problem” while the other part was living in the moment.

It’s what made me afraid of closeness, but also what caused me to need it.

I’ve been haunted for most of my life by the past. Something is always dangling its frayed thread across my neck, giving me the chills. Whether it be something silly like a conversation gone wrong, or a bully not stood up to properly, or something real, like death, or abuse, or having your agency sundered.

It all hurts different. And it hurts unexpectedly. But it only hurts when I think I’m safe. When I think I’m capable of doing it right this time.

I’m definitely too deep in my own head for this, but. I’m trying not to be. It’s easy to pretend like something that hurt you before doesn’t matter now. It’s almost like you need to act like you’re better than it. And then all that hate, it just festers inside the callosum’s cleave.

And so now, I want to run away again. I want to uproot and leave. I want to disappear.

But then, I think about the kids, the smirk, the access, the sunrise. And I find myself grounded, quite literally.

It’s like that severance hasn’t quite split me in two and each half is fighting for distance, but me? The guy in the middle of it all? He just wants closure.

I’ve been digging up my past, fogging the glass, and wiping it clean for long enough, that I just now noticed I’ve been dumping the exhumed dirt on my feet. I’m ankle deep in earth, and I guess I’m still digging.

Thanks for reading.

I’m doing my best over here, I promise.

-Connor