July 26, 2011 § Leave a comment
I had a wonderful weekend. I was in London, with great company, gallivanting about and watching this amazing band. That amazing video, in fact.
There, out of a happy moment, the heat and the noise and the bass so loud it made my throat and belly vibrate, came a wave of aching. The feeling, which I know is a cover story for something more, can only be described as being fat. Too much of me. Excessive amounts of flesh and emotion which I couldn’t erase. In that moment, I felt more intensely claustrophobic in my own skin than I have in a while and, having nowhere to go and nothing to do about it, I just cried.
Which is a less than ideal scenario when you’re out on date night.
Once upon a time, that sickness would have had to become literal. That, for those few minutes, I stuck my ground, stood still and cried, is an achievement for me. But although I feel so very okay for the majority of the time at present, that feeling snuck up on me out of nowhere and crumbled my evening to sand.
When those days come more frequently, the easiest thing to do is to stand back. From everything. From people, places, company. Staying in bed becomes preferable to that little trigger most people call life. I’m clawing back from a few months of intense hiding and being swept away like this is rare now. But it still comes.
On Saturday night was I swept away because I ventured out or because I have been standing back for so long that the intensity just did me in. Those emotions I bundle up into my body and my self-worth took another hit because I stood too close to, well, life.
In the end, we stood back. Outside the inner circle. Far back enough to find cool air and less ear-shattering noise. Our view tempered by the tops of heads. Where people shouted over the delicious music and spilled their drinks on their date. And I wanted so very much to be able to stand, vibrating, in the centre of it all again.