There is a song that I love and used to listen to on repeat. When I hear it now, it reminds me of being young and angry, in that indignant way that seems to fade and soften sometime in your twenties and leave you sort-of resembling a normal person somewhere in your thirties. Some of the lines read: I have climbed the highest mountain/ I have sailed across the sea/ I have wrestled with my demons/ and woke up with only me
Perhaps because the entire life of this blog has revolved around relationships, or because of recent events in my current life, I’ve been thinking a lot lately about personal demons, specifically, how much do we (er, I) allow the little cloven feet of the things that haunt us to trample on the potential of new and greater things?
By no means do I claim to have the answer to this question, nor as to how to vanquish said demons, but I can say that, in my personal experience they interfere in more ways than I’d probably like to admit. It’s as of they – the demons, that is – wait, gathered on the edges of consciousness, and as potential-holding things occur in real life, they press in closer, one or two slipping over the break and into awareness – and, because life is like that, they are precisely the one or two terrify the hell out of you at that exact moment. Every time.
When I was a little girl, I never had much of an idea as to what I wanted. But, I was stubborn, a little defiant, and had seen enough in too few years to tell you what I didn’t want. And when I did, I would often insist with such conviction for such a small person that the people around me took it as my unwavering word.
For instance, I did not want to be an artist. Continue reading