Experience

2022 reflections

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There is so much to say about this year. It has been hard, maybe harder than ever. Do we say that every year? I think so.

Naively, I had so much hope for 2022 after nearly two years of lockdowns and what I perceived to be lost time. I was wrong because time was not lost at all. The passage of time is a funny thing. During those lockdowns, time was flowing, and we were all changing.

It isn’t all bad. There have been some great things in the year and I’m grateful for even the smallest win or glimmer of hope.

Recently, I have been comparing a lot of things in life to fitness. You have to work at it, it isn’t always fun or flattering and the most important results are not visible to the eye.

I’ve found a sense of community where I work out. From being someone who hated sport and physical activity in high school because of the way my sports teacher treated those of us who didn’t fit in, I now run towards the challenge, power and confidence that working out gives me.

The main theme of this post is to do with the passage of time. It is possibly one of the most emotional and difficult things to come to terms with, for me anyway. We cannot change it, we cannot reverse it. I am still learning to surrender to the passage of time and for me that is a work in progress.

What have I learned or experienced so far this year?

Don’t assume that your friendships or any kind of relationship will remain constant. Any relationship is constant work – I don’t subscribe to the notion that relationships are effortless. I get the concept, but I don’t agree that it requires no effort. Everything needs work and effort, it just comes down to what you think is worthy of your time, work and effort. I was introduced to the term fair-weather friend. These are the friends who are with you when it is easy to be with you but disappear when you start having issues. These are people who lack accountability and do not follow through, particularly when it is of no tangible benefit to them.

Related to the above, keep yourself open to meeting new people always. I’ve had people ask me why I feel the need to meet new people all the time. Aren’t you happy with your friends?! To which I would say, well, if I took that approach then we probably would not have met.

By keeping myself open, I have made new friends this year who have had all kinds of wonderful impacts on me. It brings a smile to my face when I think of how lucky I am to have met these people.

This year I finally confronted in a very real way that I was a victim of rape seventeen years ago. It was so difficult for me to say that I could not even fathom typing the previous sentence up until this point. After extensive therapy and some time, I finally had the courage to report this to the police and going through that process has been really challenging for me. While it is still difficult for me to talk about openly, I am slowly moving to a place where I can. It took me this long to realise how much that event impacted me, my emotional and sexual relationships. I am on the journey to heal and grow stronger, this will take time and effort. I am grateful that my close friends, family and community supported me through this time (and continue to do so).

I have learned to be more vulnerable this year. I used to think that showing my weakness would make me undesirable as a person but this was quite the opposite. Putting up walls has alienated me from people in the past. This year has been a big step towards bringing those walls down and being more vulnerable with people as they are with me.

Dating has been absolutely hilarious and overwhelmingly crap. No surprises here but always a fun one. From the highs of January to getting banned on Tinder and Hinge, it has been a ride. The way people present themselves to the world and the bizarre ways they treat people privately is…an interesting contrast. You betcha you are a story I’m telling to people, makes for great dinner conversation. What I will say though, is that I have made more friends off dating apps than I have had successful dates. That is not a bad outcome at all. While I pretty much stopped going on dates about two months ago, it has been a nice break and allowed me to throw myself into doing more things I love.

Don’t get me wrong, I would love to fall in love but it is also not a requirement for me. I will meet people and explore the opportunity but I will not force it. There is nothing worse than being in a relationship that makes you feel like you are fading as an individual. I want someone who challenges me, makes me grow and compliments me while I do the same for them. I am not looking for someone to complete me.

With that said, living alone is hard work. You need to work to be active in all components of your life because it is far too easy to fall into isolation.

I have no idea what 2023 is going to bring for me but as always, I’m hopeful and excited. That’s all from me for now.

Masks

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It’s a funny thing to reflect on the past. People say you shouldn’t dwell too much on it and I agree with that, but it’s good to reflect
so we can think about the present and what might lie ahead of us. When I’m reflecting, there is a quote from Maya Angelou that I always come back to. She said, “I’ve learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.”

I wonder how many of us think deeply think about the consequences of our actions and words. It’s very easy to justify why you can’t have a difficult (but necessary) conversation with someone, why it’s easier and okay to completely ignore someone – it’s easy because we all do it. We are all guilty of it.

Controversially, in the name of self-care we even sometimes attempt to justify hurtful behaviour. I would argue though, that this is not self-care because you are not only doing long term damage to people around you, but also to yourself.

Self-care to me doesn’t mean something is easy and instantly makes me happy.
Self-care can painful, awkward, and sometimes does not produce instant results.

Under the mask of anonymity or away from the potential judgment of those we love and respect, it is interesting to see how people’s behaviour and treatment of others can change.

There was a recent experience I had where I met someone briefly via some mutual, close friends and they seemed like a friendly and outgoing person during our brief interaction. A few days later, I had an online experience with this person that was completely the opposite. I felt horrible. My mind instantly went to self-blame and what I must have done wrong. Surely, my friends would not have those kinds of people around them. Again, I burrowed into blaming myself but eventually, in the name of self-preservation I concluded that this person was just rude.

Of course, it doesn’t end there because I’m an overthinker. I asked myself, had I behaved in a similar way towards others in the past? I didn’t want to admit it, but the answer was yes. I had also been the rude or cold person at different points in my life. I probably wouldn’t even be able to say why I behaved that way. I wonder how I made them feel and if they still remember how I made them feel.

So then why do we do it? Why do we sometimes behave badly when no one we know is looking? I don’t know. Maybe we all have different reasons. Sometimes I think I did it out of fear but I don’t know if that was the reason every time.

If we wear masks, are we just changing our masks? I don’t want to believe that those times I haven’t treated people well is my true self. I genuinely don’t believe that is my true self and I’m sure it isn’t other people’s true self either. I would like to think that was some other mask I put on at the time that I probably shouldn’t be wearing again going forward.

Again, in the name of self-preservation I think about this in the context of an increasingly socially connected world. That mask I might have worn in the past (more than I’d like to admit) needs to go away. I might have people confront me about my shitty behaviour in the past and I need to own that. Likewise, others may need to think about this possibility for them.

What makes me think that people still remember the way I made them feel? Because I remember the way people have made me feel. If I were to describe some of the ways people have made me feel (negatively), I would say the main ones are invisible, dirty, unimportant, and forgettable. I wonder what words people would use to describe the ways I have made them feel (negatively).

To date, I have had a few conversations with people who I didn’t treat well, and I count myself lucky that they gave me the time of day. It wasn’t about making excuses or making someone accept my apology. Sometimes it was as simple as, “I was a shit and was really rude to you. I don’t know why I did it, but it was wrong and I’m sorry.”

Likewise, my door is always open, and I will hear people out who treated me poorly if they want to own their behaviour. Some people have and I really admire their courage in doing that.

To finish off, just yesterday, I was having a great chat with these two amazing women who run a cafe nearby home and one of them said, “You know, we live in a pretty unforgiving and cruel world sometimes. It doesn’t hurt to be good to those around us.” We could all agree on that.

It’s important to understand that the world can be a genuinely isolating and shitty place, the least we can do is try and make it a little less that way by treating people around us with more kindness even if we don’t think we’re going to see them again.

Anyway, that’s all from me today.

Liar

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He says he’s fine with his own company, but he’s lonely.

He often says no worries but he’s upset.

Wishes things didn’t change so much. He feels like all the seats being taken and its looking more and more like there is not seat for him. Slowly being squeezed out of relevance.

Weekends spent in frustrating solitude. He can’t focus on what he tells everyone he loves doing.

Can’t quite get past the first date or two. It kills him that he can pinpoint that exact moment something changes in the tone of their voice.

Not responsible or focused. Can’t focus.

Hates himself for being too scared of making the change that might make him really happy.

Tells everyone he’s content with his body and confident in his looks but deep down will do anything to be more desirable.

Looks like he’s happy and content but everything is empty and there is no passion or joy. On the brink of tears but can’t quite get to that point.

He’s performative, probably not fooling anyone. He definitely can’t fool himself anymore though.

Something’s gotta change, something’s gotta give.

He feels sick, he feels like he’s slowly dying inside.

Every night when he goes to bed, he longs for sleep, taking him to a place where he feels more alive than he does in wake.

He longs for release.

34

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I love dressing casually and going to a fancy restaurant by myself. They usually sit me at the bar, best spot in the house if you ask me. Especially when it’s open plan and you can watch everyone from where you are sitting.

First things first, some light banter with the staff. It’s great to chat and ask them how they are doing. Sometimes, I wonder what they think of me but it’s just a fleeting thought because deep down I don’t really care. I used to though.

A lot of people ask me how to eat out alone. I don’t know when it started or how I became so comfortable doing it but when I was a teenager, I distinctly remember imagining myself eating out alone as an adult. I was imagining exactly what I do now.

Is there a method? Are there rules? Not really.
It’s not hard when you do it but it’s hard to imagine how you would do it when you have yet to take that first leap to be in your own your own company while in public. People will look at you and some will even ask questions.

How do you occupy your time when you eat out alone? That’s up to you. You can read a book, you can play on your phone or you can people watch. I go between people watching and playing on my phone. There are definitely other ways you can do it, but I have yet to explore them.

When I watch people, I imagine a life I don’t have. I watch couples and how they engage – whispering sweet nothings to each other and deciding what they will order. Sometimes I make up a story around them. How far are they into dating? What do they bicker about? And of course, what’s the occasion?
Sometimes, when I get deep into the story, I start to feel what they feel in the narrative I have created.

The frustration one partner feels at the other partner’s perceived lack of care.
You’re always on your phone at dinner. Why can’t we just have a conversation without our phones?

The way one partner gazes deeply into the other’s eyes as they talk, drinking up every word.
I love you and I am listening with all my heart.

The way they both sit on their phones the whole time and barely exchange a word with one and other. I shouldn’t have made that comment back at the hotel before. Tonight was meant to be special.

Then, on the odd occasion I see someone like me. Alone and watching. Our eyes meet for the briefest of moments. Smiling eyes and an unspoken understanding.
Let’s not observe one and other, too close to home.
Agreed.

Maybe this is a me thing, but when you watch other people interact for such a long time, you can’t help but compare your own experiences of human interaction.
You wonder why you don’t interact with people like that.
Why people don’t interact with you like that.
You wonder why over the years you have more outings with yourself than you do with other people.
Look, it isn’t good to dwell on this too much. It can get dark very quickly and so I tell myself that while I’m an independent person who has a lot of time alone, I have some amazing people around me who are also quite independent. We may not interact like the people I observe, but our interactions are still enriching and warm.

When it comes down to it, I am comfortable in my own company and it doesn’t prevent me from going out and enjoying a nice meal somewhere, a drink or even a movie. Heck, I even travel alone.

So, as I sit here on my 34th trip around the sun, I wonder what the years ahead of me hold. Up until now, I’ve accomplished a lot and I will accomplish a lot more.
I want better for myself, and I want to be better.

I don’t know where I’m going or what will happen in the year ahead but deep down, I feel something stirring.  Some unfathomable excitement of something I can’t quite grasp but feels closer than it ever has.

Bitter

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——————————————————————————————————————–
Before you read my story below, please keep a few things in mind.

I am recounting something that happened to me many years ago but still continues to have a profound effect on my life to this day.

When I was in highschool I wrote a version of this story which had been lost and so I have spent the last little while piecing together the memories and taking a somewhat painful but ultimately cathartic journey to re-tell my story.

This story is about sexual assault and you may find it triggering or upsetting. I was prompted to revisit this piece due to having an extremely strong emotional reaction after I was approached in a shopping centre toilet recently.

Some of you may know a verion of this story, others may have heard me mention it very briefly and some of you may be learnign this for the first time.

Please understand that this was difficult for me to write, it is even more difficult for me to press the publish button and immensely more difficult to have extended conversation about this with anyone.
——————————————————————————————————————–

It was another scorching summer day and I found myself in Borders searching the manga section to see if they had the latest volume of the Kindaichi Case Files, a murder mystery series I was thoroughly addicted to. There was nothing quite as thrilling as following the adventures of  the two teenagers Hajime and Miyuki finding themselves at the centre of seemingly endless grizzly murders that they ended up solving without the help of the police.
Despite knowing deep down that it wouldn’t be in stock because manga was barely flying off the shelves and Christmas was only two weeks away – there was something comforting about perusing a shelf of books hoping I might strike gold.
Two careful scans and no luck. There was, however, something else that caught my eye. Something I could not let anyone else see me looking at.
The manga section was always quiet, and today was no exception. Looking both ways to check that I was in the clear, I slowly crouched down and located one of the men’s love series called Gravitation. Taking a volume from the shelf carefully as if one wrong move would set off alarms and out me right then and there – I gave the action my full concentration.
Slowly, slowly and safe.
No alarm.  
I flicked through the pages to see if there anything steamy. I couldn’t seem to find anything of interest but every time I heard a muffled voice becoming clearer and louder it made me jump and I would look around me again.
Still no one.
It all felt too risky, so I put Gravitation back. 
Slowly getting back up, I moved to another section I knew I wouldn’t be interested in.
It looked like I was browsing just as I was before but this time my eyes were out of focus as I ran a finger across the uneven spines rippling along the shelves.
I would do this a lot, it felt performative. Often, I would lose myself in this state of this performative nothingness. It was calming.
“Did you find what you were looking for?” Mum called out from behind me. My focus came right back to the self-help books in front of me and I turned around to find Mum standing at the far end of the aisle with shopping bags in either hand.
“No, they didn’t have it.”
Mum pursed her lips slightly, “Come on, let’s go get something to eat and then we can find presents for the cousins.”

While I had largely escaped shopping duties since I was, until recently swamped with exams and end of year assignments, now that I was on holidays – I had been enlisted to help.
I didn’t really mind because Mum always let me look at the things I liked as well. Though, she may have preferred it if I was buying less manga.    

We left Borders and walked through from the recently renovated section of Highpoint to the older section which had barely been touched since I was a much younger. I couldn’t count how many times it had just been Mum and I, sometimes my brothers and dad too – walking through Highpoint, on a mission for something. We’d fought, laughed and cried walking through this shopping centre. I had come to Highpoint with my friends, exchange students and even by myself a few times, it was very much a place that had been a constant backdrop in my life.

Mum and I had made our way to the food court we always went to. It had the place she liked to get her sandwiches from and the Chinese place that I liked. Recently, they had also started selling sushi.

Putting her shopping bags down, Mum took a spot at a table by the fountain.  She pulled out her wallet and passed me a twenty dollar note, “Make sure you get yourself a drink too.”
“Thanks.”

Looking at the offering in the bain-marie, I decided the sushi looked more appetizing. Summer never made me feel like having anything incredibly hot anyway. On top of this, I could almost hear Mum saying something about chicken sitting in the bain-marie all day and food poisoning. 
Two hand rolls and an aloe vera drink would do me.

Mum looked at the drink suspiciously, “What’s that?”
“It’s an aloe vera drink, it’s really nice!”
Raising an eyebrow, she took a sip “Not sure about the chunks but it tastes much better than I thought.”
I set myself down and Mum went off to get her food. I was convinced that she would get a salad sandwich and probably some kind of juice. A water was also a possibility but definitely not a soft drink.

Munching away on my sushi, I looked around and wondered if I would see anyone from school. The bright food court was bustling with unfamiliar faces. No one I knew.

Mum came back, she had a juice with her sandwich.

“So, after this, we just need something for the twins. All the others have been sorted. What do you think we should get them?”
I had no idea. I was close to the twins, but we had very different interests. Wondering what I could suggest, I went for the safe option, “What about something from the body shop? They go on holidays a lot so maybe some stuff they can travel with.”
Mum thought for a moment, “You’re right, they’re always at the holiday house in summer. What about some cute beach towels?”
It was totally different from what I suggested but I told myself that I must have helped Mum arrive at this conclusion somehow.
“That sounds good.”
For some reason whenever I found myself in a shopping centre, I always had to go to the toilet frequently and suddenly, “I’m just going to go to the toilet. I’ll be back.”
“I’ll wait here then.” Mum took another bite of her sandwich as she looked down at the water distorting the colourful tiles in the fountain.  

Walking down the quiet hallway to the toilet, the slap of my thongs with each step was much more noticeable. The toilet was empty, and I went to the cubicle down the end, carefully placing toilet paper on the seat before sitting down and staring off into space.
Memories from the year floated into my mind before disappearing again, plans I would make with my friends over the summer break and of course when I would get the next volume of Kindaichi. Slowly I started thinking about the two years of VCE that faced me, how would I do? What would life be like after that?
As I spaced out, I didn’t hear someone enter the toilets and then the cubicle next to me.
“Psst.” Came a voice from above me.
I jumped and looked up to see a man in his mid to late thirties staring down at me.
Unsure, all I could manage was, “What?”
His eyes narrowed and I saw them ogle me where I sat, devouring every part of bare skin he could lay his eyes on. He mouthed something to me that I couldn’t quite make out but instinctively I said no.
Maybe he wanted toilet paper, I found myself wondering.
His head disappeared, and I felt a sense of relief.
Slowly cleaning myself up, I heard him call out to me again. I looked up and saw that this time he was holding a twenty dollar note in his hand.
He mouthed again to me “Suck?”
I shook my head and looked down at the floor. The thudding sound of my blood coursing through my body echoed in my ears and I felt glued to where I was, unable to move. That itchy feeling in my chest and a shaky weakness spreading to every part of my body.
I tried to focus on the tiles of the floor and see if I could find patterns like I did at home sometimes. There were definitely no patterns, but I kept trying. Maybe there was something in the grout. Just focus on the grout.
Without warning, something grabbed my leg and started pulling strongly. For a moment I watched without reacting, as if I had lost control of my body.
My mind was screaming to pull back, but my body wouldn’t – or couldn’t respond.
My shin hit the divider and scraped painfully as a strong grip held it firmly in place. That’s when I felt something wet and warm on my toe – I tried to jerk back but struggled and I realised it was his mouth.
For a moment I did nothing and then as I felt his grip relax slightly, I pulled back and managed to get free.
As quickly as I could, I got myself together and opened the cubicle door.
He was one step ahead of me, waiting on the other site of the door and pushed into the cubicle as I tried to get out, pushing me backwards onto the toilet seat. He towered above me. He held up a finger to his mouth, “Shhh”
The man leaned in close to me and started sloppily kissing my neck, I recoiled and squirmed but I couldn’t move away. His foul tongue scraping me and his hot, putrid breath filling my nostrils. I watched as his hand snaked its way into my pocket and fiddle around a bit.
Slowly he moved back, the saliva on my neck was still connected to his lips.
His crotch was level with my face.  In a swift movement, he pulled down his shorts to reveal himself.
I tried to move backwards, but he used one of his hands and pushed my head towards him, “You know you want it.”  
The smell was strong and repulsive.
I felt like I wanted to cry but I couldn’t.
With one hand holding himself and the other on the back of my head, he forced it into my mouth. That’s when I felt myself leave my body.
I watched from above as my empty eyes stared at nothing and he rhythmically thrusted back and forth. Both hands on the back of my head. The rest of my body was limp.

At the time I didn’t realise it, but this is what it felt like to break apart completely. To be smashed into pieces beyond my control.

It wasn’t clear how much time had gone by. But I felt something hot and bitter shoot into my mouth while he held my head firmly in place. He uttered the word, “Swallow.” As an order.
My mind still empty, I complied.
He moved back and pulled up his shorts before leaving the cubicle.

For a time, I sat there, unsuccessfully attempting to process what had just happened.  
I had slowly come back to my body but not all the pieces were there. I wasn’t sure what it was, but I knew that a part of me was gone – destroyed.
No longer was my heart pounding loudly in my ear, my body no longer shook, I was numb.

Eyes still unfocused, I stood up and quietly exited the cubicle before washing my hands, face and neck. I washed my mouth out. I then pressed the soap dispenser and put it in my mouth to wash it. I just wanted to get rid of that bitter taste. After drying off, I exited the toilets.

The hallway was quiet, just as it had been and going out back into the food court, everything was just as it was before.
Mum was still sitting by the fountain but her sandwich was long finished, “What took you so long?”
“Oh sorry, my stomach was a bit upset.”
“It was probably that drink.”
“Yeah.”
“Okay, are you ready to go? Let’s go find those beach towels for the twins.”
I nodded.

As we walked back through to the shops, I felt my mind drift. Something about what had just happened felt so unreal. Maybe it didn’t happen. It couldn’t have happened.
I reached into my pocked and felt the note. A sinking feeling, a wave of dread engulfing me.
 
Everything looked the same, but it somehow all felt so different.

Petrified, that it would be my fault, I pushed it down and focused on the towels we had to find.

Letterbox

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I peek inside my letterbox everyday, even on a weekend and hope I’ll find a letter from you.

You’re gone, I know that.

You aren’t coming back, I know that.

At first it’s like you never existed but all I have to do is scratch the surface and it’s all there. We are there, that time.

The good times were good and the bad times were bad. Ups and downs like a rocky sea on a stormy night.

I can’t forget your smell and the comfort it gave me but I also can’t forget how I felt like I was fading the longer I was with you. Was that your fault? I don’t know, probably not.

Now I’m free and floating without a tether. I’m free but am I in control?

A glimpse of a face in the crowd, a profile with no face. Is it you? Do I want it to be you? What if it is? Then what? Nothing.

Another ghost, another day.

Who is poking around on my balcony under the light of the moon?

When I open the door, is that your cooking I smell?

You know I still put the ear plugs in at night? I tell people it’s because I sleep better but to be honest it’s because I sometimes still hear your snoring even though you aren’t there. I had the worst sleep while we were together. Now I sleep like the dead and I don’t know myself.

Sometimes I can talk about you and sometimes I can’t without crying but that’s life. It couldn’t have been any other way.

I peek inside the letterbox and I know there is nothing in there but I unlock it and check anyway. Maybe tomorrow.

Enemy

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This unseen enemy is wearing me down,

Eating away at the corners of my colourful dreams little by little like silverfish at paper.

At first I didn’t even notice and I felt like it was no match for me. I danced around it confidently thinking I was to win but here’s the thing, the whole time it laughed at me and I simply could not see.

Now my dreams are fast fading and my world is looking grey. I’m cold and alone while others dance and play.

I’m shut in and it feels like so many things have been taken away.

Gravity

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We’re tangled on the sofa watching something. The movie doesn’t matter so much, just this moment, the afternoon sun streaming through into the room and the comfort your warmth gives to me. How long have we been sitting here? Minutes? Hours? Who even picked the movie? I don’t know and I don’t care.
Despite trying to ignore the feeling, I can’t ignore the fact that I have to go to the toilet and dread to break this moment but I get up to do it anyway.
As I start to rise, I’m pulled back onto the couch, gently, so gently. Maybe I didn’t give myself enough push going up? I look at you, half expecting you to meet my gaze but your face is focused on the movie and you don’t look at me. For the briefest of moments you smile the most secret, quiet smile that only I can see and hear.

That’s when I know it’s you.

You’re the gravity that keeps me from floating away.

Haunted City

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I live in a beautiful city.

Some even say it’s one of the most beautiful in the world but I think that depends on who is looking and where they are looking from.

There was a time when I would fly, wide-eyed around my city filled with buildings both old and new, streets lined with plane trees and cute little laneways, each turn filled with me wonder and excitement.

But recently something has changed. When I walk the streets, I’m alone and I can’t help but notice them.

They are scattered amongst the new people that pass me by.

The ghosts stare at me with their hollow eyes and shapeless mouths.

I try my best to ignore them but there seem to be more and more.

I enter an arcade that I would spend countless afternoons in all those years ago. One of the cafes in the arcade has this upstairs area where I would sit by the arched window watching the crowds filter trickle through for whole afternoons.

It was a sacred place.

But now, as part of the trickling crowd I look up to the arched window and see a ghost sitting at my table, mouth gaping open and staring at me.

I decide to walk another way.

Food tastes bland and powdery, the buildings look weathered. The world around me is becoming a tired amusement park, the rides haven’t changed and things are starting to break down.

I’m not making new memories like I used to.

No – surely not.

I look through my phone to convince myself otherwise but most of my photos are of food, buildings or myself. The smiles that occupy my older photos before this all started are filled with warmth and feeling. Something has changed, I have changed.

What have I done?

Where did I go wrong?

Whatever I did, wherever I went wrong, there are only ghosts following me around and standing in my way.

This is no longer the city I grew up in, the city that shaped me into who I am.

And when I look under the thin veil it is very much apparent that at some point I stopped living.

How long have I just barely been existing?