Shedding Skins
It is funny how you can avoid something you love for fear of what it will reveal that you are too afraid to sit with. Writing is just that for me right now. Writing has always been a way for me to uncover myself and to express what is deeply held within my spirit yearning to come out. It can feel like a deep release, euphoric and it gives me a deep, intrinsic pleasure. Sometimes I share it and feel it “has a point” and other times, it simply the act that is enough for my satisfaction. I have found myself a stranger to it recently. I avoid it and stack underneath all my other important tasks as if to never find it. I find myself curious as to why I would hide the very thing that gives me such delight in a time where I feel so lost searching for something tangible to pour my creativity into to gain that familiar feeling of satisfaction? My hunch is that it is the transparency my writing holds that I avoid not the act itself. What truth am I so fearful to have revealed to me? My own nakedness. Like the show “naked and afraid” I find myself shedding skins and in my process, I find myself without the habitual covering taking forms of identities, projects and externalized forms of pleasure and belonging.
This year took many detours off the destination I was inspired to reach. A theme of each detour was, “how can I get back on track?” “How can I feel “normal” again?” Each of these questions resulted in answers and more questions most difficult to digest. I may never get back “on track”. What if “on track” may be a false notion I created for security and control. What defines “on track” and what does that really mean? What is so glorious about it? Normal became somewhat of a memory of what was just familiar and well traveled. To a degree it lost its luster, as it became the dangling carrot that seemed beyond my reach.
These detours were not merely dead ends of frustration and angst. Many of them led to new paths full of new destinations and even a fellow passenger. There were many moments of freedom, spaciousness, and joy in all different forms to play with. Perhaps I was awakening new parts of me to travel along with me on my journey. Most of the time I didn’t even miss the old destination and pathway and questioned what was so great about it anyway? Something new was emerging. Intrinsic satisfaction..similar to my writing but generated a new way. By living a new way, traveling with a new companion and experiencing life through new eyes. This was changing everything. The question morphed from “how can I get back on track” to where am I even going anyway? I guess I still needed a destination to put in my GPS and some part of my still wants to know if I am “on track”.
The coverings of my past don’t necessarily fit the same way they did before. They feel a little tight and suffocating if I try to wear them as I did in the past. So I take them off and “Ahhh, what relief! I am free. I have so much space in which to roam and to fill with whatever I choose!” And soon after this realization those same tapes play in the background “So where are you going? Are you on track?” and I soon realize I am naked again. Naked and afraid. What do I do in this place?
Being naked is awkward. Wearing clothes that are “out of style” and too tight is damn uncomfortable. So do I wear them differently? Maybe mix in a few new items to “spruce them up?” That feels un-natural and the resulting look contrived. No, maybe I just go shopping for some new and more current items? But then I don’t know where to shop and even what I am looking for. What is my new look? Even this question brings me inner turmoil. Then how long do I stand naked before its time is up? Is naked the destination? Is naked my new travel gear? This thought is enough to drive me back to my old destination..creature comforts, distractions take me back!
What is so bad about naked? Well, first of all no one goes around naked. It is “normal” to cover yourself. So, you really stand out. You cannot hide and be a chameleon without clothes. You are really seen and not just what you want people to see; even what you don’t want to share is there for all to witness, comment and judge. But, what about me? How do I feel seeing myself naked? I am skilled at observing how others respond to my nakedness but what is my experience to stand before myself in bare skin? I realize that most of the time my eyes are closed and I dare not look at myself for fear of what I will see. Maybe I notice wrinkles where I thought none to be. Perhaps the scars from my accidents and traumas are more pronounced in their debut front and center then when balanced by a great tan or stylish swimsuit. Maybe I am not as trim as my “slimming” clothes suggested. Maybe the makeup took years off my life to the mere passerby. Maybe I am not as “perfect” and “put together” as I wanted so badly to believe. It is as if I believed all those coverings would make me into the woman I needed to be. Need to hide that scar? No problem..just a little touch up here and there and it as if it never happened. A little thicker here? Voilà! This will make it disappear. Aging a bit too much here, well this will take you back in time. All for what and for whom? What is so bad about being real with myself and with all that see me?
Those scars and mishaps, well they taught me lessons more valuable then any degree or teacher could ever. They taught me who I was and who I was not but most importantly they kept me sober in my humanness. The thickness is evidence that I am learning to enjoy and take in the sweetness of life and all it offers. I don’t have to starve myself of what I desire any longer. And my age, well it comes with a long resume of wisdom especially from the school of hard knocks and experience. Why is this so unfashionable? What is so sexy about inauthenticity? Why do I fear looking at myself in the pure and unrefined form of which life has carved me to become?
I don’t have the answers to these questions. But, for now I am going to attempt to be naked and interested in what I see. I am going to sit peering at myself until the site of myself isn’t so estranged. I am going to try to find something beautiful in my realness if it takes me until the end of my days. I vow not to cover myself with anything unless it highlights what is truly underneath instead of hiding it. I want the beauty that people see to be the true beauty of what is there not the illusion of what I feel they need to see. Better that they judge me for who I am than praise me for who I am not.
These are hard truths to face and deep promises to keep for myself. I don’t know where these truths will take me or how long it will take me to journey into them. I am back to full circle of why I avoid writing. Writing allows me to uncover myself. Most days I avoid this because I don’t want to see but today I guess I felt myself braver. I guess this is part of the destination of shedding skins. Where I go doesn’t really matter as long as I know who I am along the way. I will save time looking for myself all over the place and find the inner exploration an interesting traverse for a bit knowing it will take many detours as well. I am not “on track” or “off track”; I am just standing and moving through life playing with my nakedness just as afraid as the next person just willing to be real about it. And for now, this will be enough. Becoming is an act of utter honesty.