Wednesday, July 29, 2009

Weightless

ukrainian dancers :: soyuzivka, kerhonkson, ny :: july 18, 2009

When I was younger, around my late teens, my father used to ask me why I was so bitter all the time. He wanted to know where the chip on my shoulder came from.

I could only tell him my truth: that I didn’t have a chip on my shoulder. That I wasn’t bitter.

Hoo-boy, was I a liar. Talk about your whoppers!

After the Warped Tour, I had decided to free myself from people who I decided were running/ruining my life. I had three very specific people in mind.

I’ve let go of two of them. (I think we all know who # 3 is…)

I’m no longer waiting for the time bomb to appear in my mailbox. I made my peace with that decision (again). As it gets later in the year, the likelihood that the bomb will even show up is becoming less. I’m not as bothered by that as I thought I’d be. Mistakes were made, distance was created and I was a fool to think things would ever be any different. I can’t continue to let those words beat me. I know the truth. He had nothing to do with it and her assertion is… well, it’s just asinine. She was never there. She doesn’t know what happened and pointing fingers at him only proves just how clueless she is. I’ve hated her for a long time - really hated her - and I didn’t realize that. I’d buried it pretty deep because just thinking of those five little words caused me more pain than any person should bear. I’ve brought it up before, with friends, but I didn’t know the extent of the pure hatred I felt for this woman. I woke up a day or two after making my declaration (Illegitimi non carborundum), and *poof*. It was over. I knew I was free.

Such a weird feeling.

I had no idea I was in for something even more intense…

Person number 2 was my mother.

I’ve hinted at our screwed up relationship, I think I’ve even come right out and said I hated her as well… Nothing about the woman I remember has ever brought me joy. In fact, everything that I remember about her only brings pain, confusion and anger to the party. I do not have a single good memory of her. There are pictures of me, with her, where we’re both smiling, so I don’t doubt that our relationship was healthy at some point. I just can’t remember those days.

One of the things that happens when you become an orphan (at least in my case), is an undeniable need to find out who you are. I became obsessed with learning about my Ukrainian heritage, but it was too soon. Recently, as has also been documented here, I’ve begun to take baby steps to rectify that. I had no idea just how important that was to my well-being.

Since I got back from Soyuzivka, my entire world feels like it’s become the Bizzaro world. I’ve been “blissed out” as I’ve been putting it. I haven’t felt like this since I began taking my bipolar cocktail and the voices in my head decided to STFU. I can’t describe the feeling of peace that has come over me. I feel like I’ve been reborn and I am more than amused by the fact that some of my friends don’t know what to do with me or who I am lately.

When I decided to go to Ukie Fest, I had a certain set of expectations. It exceeded those expectations in ways I hadn’t even considered -  both good and bad. Going there forced me to come face-to-face with what my mother had taken away from me. It also made me realize just what she had given me. Her stubbornness. Her temper. Her passion. That damn chip on my shoulder. The revelation didn’t really come to me until today… but I noticed that something was “off” after my buzz lasted for more than a few days. Getting over person # 1 wasn’t that big a deal in the grand scheme of things, so I knew it had to be bigger than that. What could possibly be bigger?

Yup.

I can’t quite put my finger on WHY I know I’m finally free of her, but I know I am. Maybe a portion of it is due to passing the milestone I’ve spent seventeen years dreading. I think more of it has to do with the fact that for the first time in almost *cough* 25 years *cough*, I felt pity for her.  I felt empathy for her. For a moment, no matter how brief it was, nor how quickly it passed, I actually saw her as a PERSON. Not the drunk monster I grew up with. It only took me 2/3 of my life to get here, but I’m cool with that. Especially when I figured that day would never come.

I’ve never been one to forgive and forget. I don’t forget. I can’t - especially when the scars are still visible. I’ve never been much for forgiving, either. If you managed to hurt me that badly, I don’t really think you deserve my forgiveness. I can’t call the resolution of either one of these situations a “forgive and forget” type of thing, but I’ve definitely come to terms with them.

Finally.

My way.

Damn, it feels good.