If... I could

What wisdom?

May 23, 2024

What can I possibly offer someone on the other side of blowing up my life? What wisdom?

Leaving my life then enabled me to reinvent myself. But is it really reinvention or was it simply removing the dams built over time that stopped me from truly expressing myself?

It feels like the latter. I created a life that outwardly seemed successful and happy, and I kept my secret yearnings anesthetized with food and drink. I kept busy. I avoided my emotions and wasn’t prepared to be curious about the source of my pain. I couldn’t face the disappointment and feelings of failure that my success brought. I was too afraid to give up what I had. I was too old to start over.

I wondered about what my life could be in another context...

If I could be a better housekeeper.

If I could be less scattered.

If I could be more disciplined.

If I could be more spontaneous.

If I could be more sensible.

If I could be more irreverent.

If I could just let shit go.

Then life would be better.

If the people in my life could just be different.

If they could only see how they could be better.

I COULD

I could be the happier person they all want me to be.

I could be satisfied with my life.

I could feel less anxious.

I could enjoy my alcohol without worrying all the time.

I could eat without overeating.

I could control my weight.

I could feel good about myself.

I could have a sense of humour about myself.

I could work hard without dragging the stress home with me.

I could stop feeling like I wasn’t doing enough in all areas of my life.

I could feel like I wasn’t disappointing the dogs by not being patient enough or walking them enough or being present enough.

I could feel like all the choices I’d made in my life were right.

I could feel like all I gave up as a creative person would guarantee that I wouldn’t live in poverty in my eighties.

I could relax and enjoy what I had instead of wondering if I should be doing more.

I could feel like the relationships I had were good enough.

I could feel a sense of peace.

I could feel a sense of belonging.

I could feel.

If… I could.

These thoughts raced through me daily. In a moment on the train, at dinner or coffee with a friend, or in meetings. They visited as I lay awake. As I slept. As I woke.

The voices.

As I drank and ate, applying the emotional anesthetic, the voices temporarily muted and then shrieked at me. I tried to keep ahead of them.

Never fully seeing the cost of their hatred… of me.

Never fully seeing the cost of loving them over me.

It exhausts me to revisit this place. As an actor maybe I am able to reconnect with feelings too readily. That’s my gift and burden depending on the context.

I am no longer there, and for that I am so very grateful.