Wednesday, Jun. 28, 2017 @ 11:37 am
Are You Sure?
The weather heats up. Long days, sweaty nights.
We hike to the peak of Seymour, the snow unseasonably deep, the top layer greasy slush. The sun angles down, and the sky bursts into colour. The city humming below. Noseeums humming in my ears. We are alone. I close my eyes and breathe in the alpine air. The smell of pine resin and old snow.
My period arrives with regularity. I stare in the mirror at my soft stomach. I understand now that part of it, part of my resistance to curves, has something to do with femininity. Am I afraid to be female? I resist many aspects of femininity - physical softness, showing emotions, being tender and vulnerable. Did I, as a child, think that it was my job to fill the 'son' role in our family? To be the foil to the ultra-feminine aspects of my older sister?
I also begin to see how I have spent my life adopting the victim mindset. This happened to me, and because of it I'm broken. If that hadn't happened to me, then I wouldn't be like this. And learning how this hasn't served me in the past, that it will never serve me in the future. That by embracing these experiences and seeing the value in them, that by feeling secure in myself and not relying on those events as crutches, that only by these methods can I truly thrive.
And that I chose Daniel because he is a critical person. And that makes me feel safe, because it's what I've felt a lot in my life. And that my deepest wish is to have the critical person give me praise and acceptance.
The layers continually peel back. I wonder if I'll finish figuring myself out before I die.
Sitting on a lawn chair in the depths of suburbia. Lawnmowers, sprinklers, cars from the guests parked all the way up the road. Daniel's nephew's 1st birthday party. I kiss the baby's fuzzy head. Watch him mash a cupcake into his mouth, he eyes wide in wonder and ecstasy.
Daniel says, "I wish we could tell everyone now."
I look at him. I know. But we can't yet. Are you sure that you want to do this? I mean, in general?
At the Orpheum. Ryan Adams. I'm bursting at the seams. I want to run and jump and belt out every song. Lean over the fence at the front, be pressed together with a hundred bodies.
But it's the Orpheum, so we all sit quietly in our red velvet seats.
Riding home in the dark after the show. The air balmy on my bare legs. Summer in Vancouver is so short, so sweet.
I'm going on an overnighter with Chris this weekend. Hiking up into the mountains beyond Whistler. He plans to build us a snow cave to sleep in.
It's all I ever want, really. To be out in the mountain air. With an interesting person. Laughing until my stomach burns, the smell of crushed juniper berries, and the cold wind that accompanies sunset.