Monday, April 20, 2009

Nora Day #22 It's raining...again

      I used to feel everything with every ounce of my body. My mom has told me a few times that when I was little they really worried about me, because whenever I would be punished for doing something wrong (more than likely, mouthing off) I would get myself so worked up, sometimes to the point of making myself sick. Looking back on it now, I remember sitting on the step (our version of "time out") in pain, my body convulsing, my head pounding, chest throbbing and eyes almost swollen shut. She had a very intense little girl. I felt every emotion at 200% and rocked the world around me.
      During a phone conversation with a good friend last night I realized that I am very different than I once was. For one, I don't get sent to the step any more. But I also don't feel to the point of puking. It's hard to describe why I feel so different now without sounding ridiculous, but whatever. I kind of feel like a warrior returning from battle. Like the last year of my life was spent combating life's basic questions: what will you do with your life? How will you get there? Why are you choosing that path? What if it doesn't work out? How much do you care about this person? Is this relationship worth continuing? Is what they did forgivable? Sometimes I felt like my brain weighed 500 pounds, swollen from all of the analyzing.
      Now that I have come out on the other end of the madness that is Senior Spring term, I don't do that anymore. In fact, I feel a little detached from everything. Sure, after being hurt I have thrown some walls up, like we all do, so I am sure that is a part of it. But it's almost like I am doing things and making decisions for the sake of doing things and making decisions. I feel a bit impulsive.
      So, with all that said, how does San Francisco fit into all of this? (Because I know my mother is reading this, sitting on the edge of her seat with hands in tight fists, terrified her daughter is making a bad, consequential, move at the beginning of her adult life). Nothing is tying me down and I don't have a lot invested in any one or any place. So maybe it's not impulse, maybe it's a search. Like I am looking under ever rock and between every root for something that will grab me and give me a reason to stay beyond "just because". I know this sounds more external than it should. But that's how I have always found new pieces of me. By traveling. By moving. By being a part of a new space or scene. And now, with battle wounds and all, I am finally ready to find out more.
      I can take a few spills without convulsing on the steps in a time out.

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