Maybe This Is How It Feels

The hairs on my arms stand on and when it comes into view, and my breath catches somewhere in my throat. I’ve been waiting for this for so long, looking forward to it, and now, I’m finally here. A breeze hits me as I walk through the gates. The wind washing over me carries more than just cool relief from the warm sunny day. There’s also an air of…. something. Some kind of feeling I can’t quite put my finger on the name of, but a feeling unlike anything I’ve ever felt or experienced before. 

I close my eyes, trying to take it all in one bit at a time. To savour and relish in it. I can’t quite believe it. It feels so surreal. Like I’m existing in some kind of waking dream in place of reality. Like I’ve died and gone to heaven. It’s like… ecstasy. The feeling, not the drug. I haven’t ever experienced the drug, and I don’t plan to. But I imagine this is how it might feel. Maybe they named the drug after the feeling. This feeling. 

Not one of the many people around has said anything to me, exactly. Not explicitly. But there's this understanding. This inherent knowing, that it's ok. That I'm ok. Because everyone is ok. Around me, everyone is just themselves. Without explanation, without justification, without apology. Because there's no need for any of that. Just as it should be. I can't help sighing. I wish it could always be like this. Just for today, how it is. 

Maybe that's what it is, this feeling. I didn't notice it until it was gone, because it's always been there, my whole life. This huge weight. Like I have to fit into a mould there's no way I possibly can do without contorting myself like a circus performer. Like I have to wear a suffocating mask 24/7, straining for air. But suddenly, all of that huge weight is gone. 

Maybe this is how it feels to breathe without restriction. To move without restraint. Maybe this is how it feels to not be carrying weight of pressure and stress to conform around all the time. Maybe this is how it feels when you are allowed to really, truly just be. Maybe this is how it feels to be free. 

Being Human

 I walk through the world on tiptoe, trying to dodge the invisible landmines people think I'm crazy for believing are there. But they are. It only takes stepping on one to cause you to shift into high alert. And I've done it more than once. Having been so careful for so long, longer than I care to remember, I start to relax. But prematurely, it would seem, because then I manage to stumble on to another landmine that results in an explosion. 

In the wake of the explosion, other people stare back at me, as if to say "well, what did you expect?" As if I should have seen it coming. With the amount of explosions I've been through, you'd think I would have learnt to see it coming by now. But I never do see it coming. It always takes me by surprise. Because the thing that other people don't understand is, I'm not like them, and no matter how hard I try, I never will be. I am my own kind of human. One that struggles to understand the other humans I coexist with in the world. The other humans seem to operate by a separate manual they haven't given me a copy of. 

There are warnings of the explosion, they tell me. There are signs alerting to the presence of a landmine nearby. But not any that I see. Not any that I hear. For me, it always seems to come out of nowhere. Maybe these elusive 'warnings' are in a whole other language that I don't speak, and that's why I don't understand. I don't know. There's a lot that I don't know. 

What I do know is that I'm my own kind of human. But being my own kind of human... being human full stop, is tiring. It's too tiring, and it's too hard for me to be. I wish I could be their kind of human, who speaks the language, who knows how to avoid the landmines and who understands. I've tried. I do try. But it's so hard. Being human is too tiring and hard. But what other choice do I have?

The Price We Pay

 “This one is more for me. I don’t think anyone else will see it really, but I need to do it for myself anyway. To get it out if nothing else.” Devi blinked at herself on the screen, then took a deep breath. “So I… I have lost two people recently who were really important to me in different ways, though both were somewhat unexpected and painful. As all losses are, I suppose.”

 

She blinked again in an attempt to ward off the tears waiting just behind her eyes, remembering those she had loved, and now lost. The first was someone she’d known her whole life. He was a close confidant and a cheerleader. Maybe at a distance, but he’d been there the whole way at every step, walking alongside Devi as she navigated the path of life. His loss had been like a punch to the gut and the heart.

 

The other person Devi had lost felt like a knife to the heart, and an extra knife or two in the back for good measure. They had been someone else Devi had considered close. But, little had she known, for her so called ‘friend’, the feeling had been far from mutual… As it turned out, Devi’s kindness, thoughtfulness and generosity in particular, all qualities she’d thought of as assets, were apparently, some kind of burdensome imposition.

 

Knowing that no one else would see this recording was the only thing that kept the embarrassment at bay as a tear fell from her eye. “It feels particularly stupid with them…” The loss was painful in a different way to that of Devi’s lifelong friend. The emotions caught up in that loss made sense. Someone died, you grieved. But with the other friend she’d lost, it was a different kind of loss. A different kind of pain and hurt that she struggled to make much sense of.

 

“Either way,” she concluded, as much as she could, for the camera and herself. “I guess this is a price of sorts. This hurt and this pain, as odd as it feels... It’s the price I pay for having had that relationship, that love that I’ve now lost.” 

It's grief, the voice of a wise friend echoed in Devi's mind. 

"Grief," Devi repeated out loud. "The price we pay for love."  

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This story continues that of Devi. You can read previous instalments here and here.