Reawakening

Almost seven years ago, I landed back in Utah, unable to eat, unable to sleep, unable to breathe with no idea of what I would do next.  I had whittled my entire life down to two suitcases and six boxes, but in spite of that, I had several things that were no longer of use to me: a wedding ring, photo albums of happy years in multiple cities, sentimental notes and cards.  I tossed all of them in a box, labeled it "Emotional Baggage" and had my stepdad tuck it away in some dark corner, until I had both a home to put it in and a heart to make some decisions about what to do with it. 

I have a home now, one that is currently covered in dust from a remodel of the basement, and I have a heart that is full with the love of a happy two year old boy and his joyful father.  The basement remodel means that we are losing the tiny bit of storage space we once had and so I am in the throws of an urge to remove from my life as much clutter and waste as possible.  If I haven't used it recently, I want it out!    

 This urge got me thinking about the other box I have waiting in the dark corner in a storage unit across town. 

A few weeks ago, I went to an Indigo Girls' concert.  When I was in junior high and high school, this was my band. I loved them.  The first day of 9th grade I wore one of their concert t-shirts to school and a future friend of mine commented that he was sure I was an "FLA" member (Future Lesbians of America).  Into my twenties I loved them.  They make me think of camping, road trips with friends and my sister and my mom. They were my companions and the way to and from school and then to Japan and across Europe. I introduced them to my ex, who liked them as well, but commented, 'You know, they really use a lot of cliches in their lyrics'.  I was determined to not let this ruin them for me, but I failed.  I listened to one of my favorite songs and counted 7 cliches before I gave up and all at once,  my love affair was over. In one of my many moves in my twenties I packed up their cds and never bothered to unpack them when I arrived at my destination. 

So, this summer, when my sister suggested we go to their concert, I was ambivalent. But, it was outdoors with a picnic and wine and her company and friends in the mountains. So, I went.  And it was amazing to see them, in person, exactly like I remembered them from tape covers when I was 14 years old. I was so energized by hearing all my old songs, by feeling the ghost of me in my awkward teenage years awaken that I couldn't sit down. I walked up and down the green mountain side, while the July sun set.

"Krantzy!" I heard someone call out my high school nickname and turned to find a friend of mine fthat I hadn't seen since I was known as Krantzy, although she had made a few different efforts to reach out to me through common acquaintances and facebook. "I can't believe it!" She said. "I thought that was you, but here- at Indigo Girls' concert?! You introduced me to the Indigo Girls!"

She was a sweet, sweet girl, who became a lovely woman. I hadn't meant to shut her off.  In high school, she had had a bit of a crush on me, that made me a little uncomfortable, but that was hardly her fault. I did after all introduce her to the Indigo Girls, and the closest thing I had to a boyfriend in high school was my delightful, gay friend Dave, and I never said anything to her about feeling uncomfortable.  

"You know, there aren't many people from high school I see anymore," she said. "I just felt different after high school and the connections just fell away, but I always wanted to see you and wondered how you are. You really made an impact on me."  See what I mean? She is a sincere, lovely woman, who then went on to introduce me to her partner of 14 years. 14 YEARS.  What an accomplishment for any relationship.  I'm jealous, to be honest. 

I got teary hearing her story and seeing her happy and meeting her partner and wondered why I had cut off my friendships, hers among many.  The same way I just put the Indigo Girls CDs in the box again and never bothered to open them,  I have a history of doing that with friends too.  I take one from each era of my life: A from junior high, D from high school, K from college, L from Sweden, L from Boston and they are the inner circle, my source of strength. This has been my means of surviving and moving on to the next part of my life.  But I regret the people I have hurt by doing this and there are several people whose absence has left a mark on my life. 

Listening to the music and singing along with my sister like we used to when I would drive us to school made me aware of the parts of me that connected me back to my old self.  I didn't really like many parts of that old self.  She was insecure, overweight, saddled down with sadness, by turns euphoric with the Holy Spirit and then riddled with guilt when she wasn't.  She was exhausting and it was a hard battle to learn to love this body that I shared with her. To peel off the dowdy clothes, the extra pounds, the religious garments, and the envelope of sadness and after doing so, I didn't want there to be ties to that life.  But there they were, in the music, in my sister, in the face of an old friend who had also come into her own and it seemed possible that perhaps I could do the same, that I could keep what was valuable and interesting and cast off what wasn't.  It seemed like it was time to clean out what I didn't need in those storage boxes and re-embrace what was worth keeping.