it's a feelings trip because at the hotel the night before I found out someone from my past is getting married. immediately I felt happy. secondly, I felt a weird loss like I just realized in that moment that I was reserving space in case that happened again. third, I felt weird about having that feeling. when they say healing isn't linear they mean it. it was a feeling combining all the moments with many people where I felt like if I was just different maybe things would turn out the way I wanted.
I texted my bestie, one who has been through similar things. she was around and we had a quick chat before I felt peaceful enough to fall asleep. so there was another feeling: joy and gratitude for lifelong friendships and having someone who understands your complex feelings.
the next day I barely thought of it not because I was over it but because I was busy. hangout with family, lunch, immersive art experience, dinner, some party decoration, some resting, then 8pm-4am I partied like I, too, was in my 20s (I am not).
there were so many feelings in that too. I was being driven around a place I never lived with cousins who hadn't lived there in ages. I learned about some family lore and development. when you get older all you notice when you return home is how everything is overdeveloped now. this used to be trees. this used to be a park. I used to spend every Sunday here studying and now it's a cookie cutter condo complex.
I'm close with these cousins (or at least closer than I am with anyone else in the family). driving around, eating, and doing the otherworld art exhibit with them was healing. no parents, self initiated fun, just vibes.
there was a plethora of gluten free dedicated places, more than (I think) I have near me. my suburb is proud of its variety (as it should be) but there's still not a lot I can eat. I love going to places where I can look at the entire menu.
I was well hydrated and full of rice during the party. It wasn't until later in the evening that we all found out I was over a decade older than everyone. they were all so smart and self assured and well articulated. in our late 20s my friends and I were still figuring many of those things out. it was nice to hang out with so many attractive people, too, even if they were gay or too young for me. I am not an incredibly social person, so I don't often have the opportunity to see so many attractive people at once. the world is truly a beautiful place.
at bedtime, alone, I sought it out. I was energized when everyone fell asleep. I sat in bed in the dark with headphones in dancing and mouthing the words to many of the playlists I made back then to help me process it. they helped then, and they helped now. that is the power of a playlist in my life. after trauma or loss or pain many people go to their support system; first, I usually make a playlist. then I reach out after the initial pain has been funneled into a handful of songs.
later, next week, next month, next year, years from now, I can revisit that moment through the pain of those songs. sometimes I like to revisit pain like an old friend. we have a tumultuous past but I've moved on and healed and let go, so it's like sitting with one of my inner children and giving them space to exist as part of me. sometimes when I listen to a mix I don't feel anything at all and I realize that it's run its course through me.
this time it was heartbreak, loss, grief, and the persistent perseverance of "what if?" what if I wasn't so fucking weird? what if I had waited just a few more months? would we have even met?
this time I listened to the 5 song playlist after the one with all the songs we had in common. it hurt to get to the two at the end (it always does). but what made me cry was the playlist I made a few years later thinking of that year and everything that had happened (not just him, but a lot was him). one gut wrenching song that somehow contained all my feelings so perfectly hit me some way last night while I was dancing in bed in the dark.
and I cried, and I cried.
and in one of those minutes thinking about how my logical brain has processed this thing my body hasn't yet, my self narrative changed. it wasn't me. it wasn't my fault for being weird. I've known this whole time it was mutual fault, that's not what I'm talking about. the self talk changed from what if I wasn't so fucking weird to: I mourn the loss of what could have been. I'm not sad I didn't get the guy. I'm sad I was missing diagnosis my entire life and if I had known more about myself and how to regulate and how to keep from overstimulation in public places (especially on dates)... maybe I would have had more opportunities.
maybe not this one. I am not sure we were fully compatible. but maybe I'd end up with less "what ifs." maybe I'd be more solid in what happened then, or any other time, it wouldn't feel like something else could have happened.
suddenly I wasn't crying over a what if anymore. I was crying for every version of myself from childhood to diagnosis in my late 30s. I was letting myself feel the grief of missing information.
I've changed so much since I found out. I'm comfortable being weird. I don't blame it for things not happening anymore. or maybe it is the reason but it doesn't matter. I don't want to pursue anything that makes me feel like I need to change who I am to make it work. in any case I'm happy alone so it's hard to even think that way anymore. perhaps I'll always wonder what if a little bit, but feelings weekend brought out so much rawness that I didn't even know was still inside me. it felt good to let it do its thing, not push it down, feel the discomfort and shed some water over it.
it felt good to listen to music in the dark, drunk and stoned, ready for anything, and cry a little bit while all the young people slept. I live alone but time to yourself in a house full of people is powerful and unique and comes with its own feelings. social time always makes me want to escape into a room to reflect and embody the lingering feelings of other people's presence in the peace of solitude. and I needed it, especially this weekend after learning that the door that closed back then has been double bolted for years and I just found out.