I used to spend hours dancing alone in my living room, imagining my SAS boyfriend at the time (who was always away), was watching me. What happened to her? Slightly crazy, zany, passionate woman with dreams. I decided at some point the things I was feeling were not appropriate and that I needed to grow up.
Coming back from an awesome weekend of partying, indulgence and too much drinking in Austin, I find myself dancing in my underwear again. I’m slowly tapering off my anti depressants, my energy is returning and so is my passion. Only thing is, I don’t know what to do with that passion, an energy so powerful that if it’s not channeled, it becomes destructive. I haven’t felt like this for so many years and I hope that nothing’s wrong with me. For so long in Australia I’ve been told there is. Hopefully in America people are granted permission to express their emotions. When I was younger I always had my dancing as an outlet for passion. Maybe I need to take a class again.
I’ve finally fallen in love with Austin in all its grunge and weirdness. I’ve stopped looking for high class Dallas in Austin and begun surrendering to my own inner grunge and weirdness. The only thing is, me weird involves me sometimes not being completely socially appropriate like on Saturday night when I was out with Captain America‘s beautiful friends (people whom we both love very much and, living a few hours from them, miss very much). I decided, in a tired, drunken haze that I wasn’t getting enough attention so thought it would be an excellent idea to take it out on Mr Wonderful (>_<). I really thought causing those sorts of drunken scenes had passed along with my twenties and a wrinkle-free face. Apparently not.
So, being familiar with causing drunken social scenes amongst people important to my boyfriend, I awoke on Sunday morning with my old bed buddies, shame and guilt, and the fear that I had not only ruined my relationship but my and my beloved’s life. We met up with two of our friends for brunch and, despite my inner awkwardness, all seemed to be well and us girls ended up going for wine and cheese at Wholefoods later. What followed was something I had not experienced in Australia with women I hardly know – a conversation in which I got to share and be straight about all the ugly bits of my personality and ego and what had led to my drunken tears the previous night. And I was not judged or encouraged to change any part of me to fit with social norms. The opposite in fact, I was accepted, validated and even told I’m not as bad as I think I am. And my beautiful friend shared with me her vulnerabilities and ugly bits. That was some of the best wine and cheese I’ve ever drunk and eaten.
So now I’ve got my “me” playlist playing whilst dancing/writing in my underwear and I’m feeling a little uncorked. I’m slowly letting that girl out from her inner bottle. I’m wearing brighter colours, not the muted, soft tones I was taking on as dignified and “age appropriate” since I realized I wasn’t Jessica Alba anymore. My old passion is flowing through me and I must admit to being a little afraid of this energy that moves me but I know that suppressing it led to my illness. Hopefully now that I’m living in an environment that seems much more accepting of people’s inner lives, I can find the same sort of acceptance for myself. And finally silence the ghostly voices of my family that I’ve been carrying around inside my head, playing over and over whenever I find a new “something’s wrong with me”.
- Partially Naked and Alone: A Halloween Story (didwedosomethingtodeservethis.wordpress.com)
- Blogging in your underwear (jeffesposito.com)
- Made in America: Finding Inspiration in Underwear (abcnews.go.com)