James (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
jspencer1986) wrote2010-07-20 12:24 am
jspencer1986) wrote2010-07-20 12:24 am
(no subject)
I’m on the flight home right now, and this is my second attempt at trying to write down how I’m feeling. My first attempt started to feel like I was writing for the sole purpose of being read, and I realise now that I would rather write to get these emotions out, readability be damned.
It was really hard for me to leave Elaine and Maia’s house this afternoon. I wanted so badly just to say I’d decided not to leave. I felt myself looking longingly and painfully at the front door as I stood by the car, and no amount of Fall Out Boy on the drive in could take my mind off the conflicting feelings of heaviness and emptiness in my chest.
I’ve made a point to surround myself with reminders of the people that make up the central hub of my new Chosen Family. The small bottle of red wine sitting open on my tray table feels like a good choice, a reminder of Ju and her willingness to share with me. My brand new copy of Wizard’s First Rule sits on the chair beside me, a reminder of Elaine’s commitment to making sure I got the best out of this trip. And Kahlan (netbook, not confessor) the only reminder I need for bonding time with Maia.
I really wish I was better at expressing these things. As I sit here trying to find a way to get out everything I feel like I need to say, I’ve got tears in my eyes. I’m not generally one to cry easily, and I really don’t like giving up that control, but when something hits me this hard, I don’t have the luxury of making that choice. The tears will come whether I want them to or not.
I’m always tempted to relate my experiences back to music or lyrics, and the opening lines of one of my favourite songs, ‘Franklin’ by Paramore, explains what I’m thinking perfectly:
“And when we get home,
I know we won’t be home at all;
This place we live,
It is not where we belong.”
If I were to be completely honest, I’d admit to thinking that feeling like this is kind of silly. I’ve always experienced post-convention depression and I’ve come to expect it by now, but this time is different. I found something in this group of people that I’ve been searching a long time to find. The love, understanding, compassion, acceptance and respect I felt from everyone made more of a difference to me than I can fully explain or comprehend.
I’m not used to being treated like I’m just as important as everyone else. I’m not used to having people actively trying to meet my needs. For most of my life I have found myself being skipped over and left out, and even just having people assert my own importance to me, however awkward it may have been for me to hear at the time, really made a difference to how I see myself.
All of you have given me something I never expected to get out of this trip. You’ve given me the opportunity to be myself, and not only be accepted for that, but loved for it. I couldn’t ask for more than that. And that’s only one of the many reasons it’s so hard for me to leave.
I know what I’m going home to. And while I love my family and friends, they don’t get me in the way that everyone I have met this weekend does.
I know I’ll be back. I know I’ll be welcomed. I know I’ll feel the same way when it comes time to leave again. But I feel like the friendships that I’ve started building this time around are worthwhile and meaningful. I can only hope that that feeling is shared.
I’m going to miss everyone deeply.
It was really hard for me to leave Elaine and Maia’s house this afternoon. I wanted so badly just to say I’d decided not to leave. I felt myself looking longingly and painfully at the front door as I stood by the car, and no amount of Fall Out Boy on the drive in could take my mind off the conflicting feelings of heaviness and emptiness in my chest.
I’ve made a point to surround myself with reminders of the people that make up the central hub of my new Chosen Family. The small bottle of red wine sitting open on my tray table feels like a good choice, a reminder of Ju and her willingness to share with me. My brand new copy of Wizard’s First Rule sits on the chair beside me, a reminder of Elaine’s commitment to making sure I got the best out of this trip. And Kahlan (netbook, not confessor) the only reminder I need for bonding time with Maia.
I really wish I was better at expressing these things. As I sit here trying to find a way to get out everything I feel like I need to say, I’ve got tears in my eyes. I’m not generally one to cry easily, and I really don’t like giving up that control, but when something hits me this hard, I don’t have the luxury of making that choice. The tears will come whether I want them to or not.
I’m always tempted to relate my experiences back to music or lyrics, and the opening lines of one of my favourite songs, ‘Franklin’ by Paramore, explains what I’m thinking perfectly:
“And when we get home,
I know we won’t be home at all;
This place we live,
It is not where we belong.”
If I were to be completely honest, I’d admit to thinking that feeling like this is kind of silly. I’ve always experienced post-convention depression and I’ve come to expect it by now, but this time is different. I found something in this group of people that I’ve been searching a long time to find. The love, understanding, compassion, acceptance and respect I felt from everyone made more of a difference to me than I can fully explain or comprehend.
I’m not used to being treated like I’m just as important as everyone else. I’m not used to having people actively trying to meet my needs. For most of my life I have found myself being skipped over and left out, and even just having people assert my own importance to me, however awkward it may have been for me to hear at the time, really made a difference to how I see myself.
All of you have given me something I never expected to get out of this trip. You’ve given me the opportunity to be myself, and not only be accepted for that, but loved for it. I couldn’t ask for more than that. And that’s only one of the many reasons it’s so hard for me to leave.
I know what I’m going home to. And while I love my family and friends, they don’t get me in the way that everyone I have met this weekend does.
I know I’ll be back. I know I’ll be welcomed. I know I’ll feel the same way when it comes time to leave again. But I feel like the friendships that I’ve started building this time around are worthwhile and meaningful. I can only hope that that feeling is shared.
I’m going to miss everyone deeply.
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I have a horrible feeling that I was so caught up in the personal pangs of saying goodbye to you and trying not to cry that I forgot to just thank you for being our guest. So, Thank You, for sharing yourself, and for being so willing to take chances.
We're going to miss you very much, too.
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*flaps*
(we're coping by doing laundry and catching up on Leverage and drinking tea)
Thank you, thank you for being with us and sharing yourself. It was worthwhile and meaningful for me :)
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