Clandestine Confessions

“Wow, you sped through that!”
I was sitting in my car staring at my newly cracked windshield when his text came through.
“Well way to throw off my groove, rock!” I said with a laugh after I saw what happened.
I was in the middle of an epic car karaoke session to “Mr. Brightside” while driving to the grocery store when the sound jolted me back to reality.
My mind having drifted off to May 28, 2021 – aching to have the opportunity to relive that day, realizing it is fast approaching on two years.
“Let’s have a competition to see who can get the most people out on the floor. We need to add some more life to the evening,” he proposed the plan while that song blared in the banquet hall.
It was a yes without hesitation.
The night was full of those…
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The text was a reply to the one I sent three minutes before – inspired by the music and the random spark of joy this rock caused (for there was a time this would have ruined my next three days and I could have cared less now).
I had just finished a book we both wanted to read that was authored by a guest on a podcast he recommended to me a couple weeks before.
“I’m sure it’s great but tell me what you think when you start it.”
He does this a lot – asks for my thoughts and opinions on various topics.
And then genuinely listens to what I have to say – sometimes pushing me to dig deeper, sometimes offering an opposing view, sometimes just sitting in silence taking in all that I spoke.
It is a gift he gives without even knowing it…
To let my body rest in being my voice, knowing the one I have is being heard, will never not bring me to tears of gratitude.
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“Absolutely will,” I said. “I will do a fast read to get it to you quicker.”
“Honestly, you can do a slow read. I have at least 1.5 books to go before I pick up another.”
Clearly I did not heed that advice…
I finished it in three days.
But with good reason.
My mental health has come to depend on it.
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Let’s rewind 11 months…
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I am walking through the grocery store, passing the individually packaged Nutter Butters – “Two starch, two fat.”
And then the yogurt – “One milk, one fruit.”
And then the single cups of Raisin Bran Crunch – “2 starch, 1 fruit, 1 protein” (that protein always confused me…).
And then the Ensure – “240 calories.”
The mental switch to calories sparks the rambling off of those in every other food I pass by…numbers memorized like the Savage Garden lyrics from the 90s… (how I can still recite “I Want You” to this day still baffles me).
–
I turn up the volume to my music, trying to drown out the incessant mental chatter.
The frustration mounting more intensely than ever before at how much useless information my brain has held onto.
Artifacts of archaic thinking that still are attempting to be relevant in a life lived freer.
Remnants reminding me of how small my world had become, revealing the results of decades of restricting rules.
There was so much chaos in what appeared simplistic…
–
I stood in the cookie aisle, exhausted and defeated, and cried.
“God, I cannot do this anymore…please, help me forget.”
It was not the experience I wanted to erase – those memories I need. Those I trust can and will be used for good.
It is all the worthless, futile knowledge that came with it. That serves zero purpose in the betterment of myself or my life. That is consuming valuable space in my mind. That is serving as a constant distraction in a life where I do not want to miss a single second. That instills this daunting fear as it becomes more boisterous…
“Is this disorder all I will ever be?”
–
It was shortly after this plead for relief when I went to dinner with my friend, and we shared a conversation that inspired him to begin sending me various podcasts.
And I do not mean the kind where people are recapping reality shows or interviewing celebrities.
I mean of the Lex Friedman variety – thought provoking, sometimes brain hurting, mentally stimulating podcasts.
Which then led to documentaries and YouTube videos.
And to reading articles.
And to buying books.
And to the accumulation of knowledge on alpine climbing and Artificial Intelligence and aliens and anacondas and the Amazon.
And ever so slowly, with the more my brain has been absorbing, I am witnessing the magnitude of that other “a” word shrinking – along with all that comes with it.
Becoming increasingly aware and captivated over the vastness of this world, the onslaught of new information breaking down the walls of mental confinement.
The ones I built myself at one point as a means of survival, as a means to be loved, as a means to matter…
As much as the thoughts plagued me, I cannot discount the value they held.
The “safety” in which they kept me.
The belonging they offered.
Even with years of choosing life behind me, it didn’t mean I rid entirely of the part of me looking for what that lifestyle gave – even if a falsified version.
Until I was introduced to more…
More people and topics and places my disordered tunnel vision blinded me from ever seeing.
–
I have come to realize it is not so much a matter of forgetting as it is remembering the signs of life pre disorder.
Remembering that prior to the walls being built, there was this entire world open to me to experience and to become and to learn.
One of color and exhilarating uncertainty and untouched land to explore.
One of hidden treasures and new discoveries and sights beyond comprehension that leave me in awe I have been given such a privilege to be alive.
One of endless opportunities and infinite first times and boundless knowledge.
And with that remembering, recognizing the only way to live in that world is through surrender.
To recognize (and accept) the authentically alive version of myself.
And that to be her means releasing the identity those numbers and obsessions and fears kept me bound to so loyally.
Even if it only makes up one piece in a five thousand piece puzzle, it will always direct my attention away from the beauty of the image.
It is about learning to be at peace with the J I become in the transfer of disordered knowledge for that which speaks life.
Knowing, with ever growing evidence, that being seen and heard and loved are independent of the disorder.
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The more I am seeing of a new world and the more I interact with it, the safer my mind feels to say “I have no need for this anymore…”
And lets loose another thought.
I envisioned that process would be a lot more terrifying – and while it certainly has some moments of fright, like when I do something without thought that used to consume all of my consciousness and begin to panic wondering “should I care more about this?!?!”, it has overall just felt like coming home.
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And what an indescribable peace in knowing I do not need to leave for the rest of this lifetime…