This post was written yesterday, January 2, at 8:00pm Eastern time.
Dearest land crawlers,
After a calming day of sleeping in, eating, and watching an unhealthy amount of Community, I find myself in the Detroit airport…delayed. The lovely thing about being a writer is that as long as I’ve got something to write on, I have a way to occupy myself, and considering that my mind is always overflowing with thought, my fingers are happy to dance about a keyboard at any time.
My trip to Michigan was altogether lovely as can be. It had just the right amount of activity and just the right amount of rest, which is good for a chronically ill girl such as myself. My health held up better than I anticipated, and ShawnEShawn remained compassionate about the fact that I’m not quite like everyone else. However, the whole time I could not help but think how astonishingly fast time had gone by. It feels as if I’ve only been here a day or two, but instead it has been nearly two weeks and I am now returning home. I will not reiterate my anxieties about time, as I explained it all earlier this week in what is one of my very favorite posts. (Click the blue to read after!)
For me, the worst part of any trip is always the ending, having to return back to daily life after having so much newness. It’s always been difficult for me to reacclimatize. I find in general, I like myself far more when I have less stress, obligations, and you know, work. I also like being able to survive, and working makes that happen. As I move forward in my life I realize that acclimating back into regular life would be much more pleasant if I had a daily life that I truly adored. I’m working on getting it to that point.
Last night I had a minor panic attack because my entire life smashed into me at once and I felt completely overwhelmed. The weight of my life suddenly knocked the wind out of me, and my inability to grasp time kicked me while I was down. I never feel as if I have enough time for all I must accomplish. It’s a strange feeling that I can’t quite put into words, which is pretty impressive considering I am a writer, or at least play one on television. Spoiler alert: I’ve never played a writer on television.
I live with the fear every day that I will be drawn into complacency due to having to survive through life rather than thriving and experiencing it in all its wonder. I don’t do well with mediocrity and repetition. Thankfully, my darling friend ShawnEShawn who I had been staying with sat with me during my anxiety attack, and reassured me that from the looks of my past, I have actively fought to refuse complacency and settling on a life that is underwhelming. As much as I tend to forget, I have taken several giant risks that caused me to give up what little I had in hopes of creating the life I aspire to have. Of course, it hasn’t worked out quite yet in the ways I had dreamed, and my struggles in all the biggest parts of my life have been painful and disheartening. Even still, I have not lost my belief that for all the pain I go through, it’s still better than living a life that disappoints me each morning I wake.
As I sit in my terminal along with the rest of those who are also delayed, I can’t help but be a creeper and people watch. Part of it comes from being hyper analytical and part comes from my PTSD, having to constantly scan my surroundings to ensure my safety. I have come to accept that I am a professional people watcher; at least, professional until I get caught, which is often. I notice the people who are alone like me, on phones and computers or nose deep in reading material. I see the sweet older couple sitting watching something on an Ipad, holding hands across the armrests. I see parents with children and soon to be parents with sweet, round bellies. There are people who don’t mind sitting right next to me and people who would rather stand on the other side of the airport than sit closely to strangers.
I find it troubling sometimes how disconnected we all are from one another. We tend to forget that most of the people that have become our most cherished companions through life, at one point, were strangers. In fact, I flew to Michigan purely to see someone who only very recently became more than a stranger to me, and it was an absolutely fantastic experience. I don’t think the disconnect can be blamed on “millennials,” technology, politics or anything else, really. I think it is simply human nature to require a fragile balance of being alone while still being together. I’m so pleased when I or others are brave enough to speak to one another, yet here I sit, deep in my writing, blasting the Black Keys from my earbuds, quietly observing the rest of the terminal from my own particular anxiety ridden bubble.
There are people of every color, nationality, gender, sexuality (I assume) and age. But I cannot help but wonder how similar we must all be feeling. That we all experience the startling speed of time moving us through our lives, that we’re all quite tired because it is becoming late into the night, and naturally, that we’re all slightly annoyed that our flight has been delayed.
However fast life goes, wherever it takes us and whoever we go with, it is more important than ever that we remember that we’re all much more closely related than we assume, that we all need the same basic human things such as affection, protection, and love, as I always say, we are all just beautiful packages of stardust.
My darling friends, I will write you again when I am home in St. Louis. Wherever you are and whoever you are, I send you my love from Detroit Metro Airport.
We drank the Great Lakes like cold lemonade,
And both got stomach aches, sprawled out in the shade.
So bored to death, you held your breath;
And I tried not to yawn,
You made my frown turn upside down,
And now my worries are gone.
I’ll be out of my mind, and you’ll be out of ideas pretty soon,
So let’s spend the afternoon in a cold hot air balloon.