A Missive from the Madness
Nonsensical thoughts on love, avoidance, and opportunity
June was a wild ride. My brain is still scattered and I’m currently riding waves of emotions but I would like to send a missive from the madness before the moment passes and I forget how I feel.
Last weekend, I had the honor and privilege of being a bridesmaid in my dear friend’s wedding. Carolyn’s wedding was near her current home in San Diego, so I flew to Los Angeles a week before our big day. I stayed with Ali and Baldev for a few nights, and I was blown away by their love and hospitality. In just a few weeks, I’ll join them in Alaska to celebrate their engagement and meet their families. I don’t know how I got so incredibly lucky to be included in all of these loving and joyous occasions this year, but it turns out that I have friends who love and value me despite my tendencies to cut and run.
My time in Los Angeles was confusing. The city is a dystopian hellscape, but some of my closest friends live there and many of them gathered to greet me and took care of me for the entirety of my visit. How can I not love a place that hosts some of my favorite people? It’s been nearly a year since I had a stable home there and I’m still parsing my feelings towards the area. Do I want to find my way back there? Could I afford to live there again? Is it now, or was it ever, home?
The brief moment in LA came to a close and I joined forces with Sydney to drive to Idyllwild and prepare for the bachelorette party. We were down one team member due to a flight diverted to El Paso, so we did our best and built a balloon arch and it unlocked some weird part of my brain that wants to host children’s parties… Whose children?! I plead temporary insanity.
Carolyn and Kathy arrived from San Diego moments after we finished decorating, still woozy from lack of oxygen due to the balloon blowing and altitude combo. We had a quiet evening eating tacos and watching movies, and Gaelin miraculously landed in Burbank, got a two hour Uber, and arrived at the cabin around 1am.
We spent the next day meeting the mayor of Idyllwild, who is a very good boy named Max, and wandering around the cute little mountain town. We accidentally led some teens on a scavenger hunt astray before having a fancy dinner in town. We returned to the cabin early to bake cookies and enjoy being under the same roof, a rare treat since each of us lives in an entirely different state or country.
The next morning, we drove to San Diego and the wedding festivities began. I don’t really know if it’s my place to recap all of Carolyn and Jake’s wedding, so I will just say that I was beyond honored to be a part of their day. I’ve seen their love grow over the years and I’ve witness how much they support and care for each other. Being surrounded their families and our closest friends, I could see their future opening up before them and I hope they let me tag along. They’re two of my favorites and I can’t wait to see what all they will achieve together.
The following evening, I boarded a plane and returned to Glasgow. I caught a cab to my one bedroom flat and immediately got back to work. I sat at my desk. I napped on the couch. There was no warm welcome. No one awaited my return. Even my houseplants failed to notice my absence; not a single leaf drooped. There’s something about spending a weekend surrounded by pure love and joy that makes your solitary, independent lifestyle suddenly ring strangely hollow.
I’ve invested a lot of time and energy building a career, and because of that singular focus, I have had the freedom to make choices other people simply couldn’t. I wouldn’t be where I am now if that relationship had worked out, if I hadn’t left that job, or if I had bought that house.
A few weeks ago, my friend lamented that every opportunity you take eliminates another. He insisted that opening one door inevitably locks another. I’ve never thought this way. I’ve always believed that no matter what choice I make, I can always go back.
I’ve never burned a bridge at work, even when I wanted to. Every boss I’ve ever had has told me I’d always have a place if I wanted to return. I could go back to school if I wanted to pursue that law degree I dreamed of after watching Legally Blonde. I could move back to my hometown if I felt the need to be closer to family. I can leave my plants with friends with the promise they’ll be alive and waiting for me if I return.
I’ve always had this unwavering faith that going back is an option. I’ll sprint through any unlocked door. If I don’t like what I find, I turn on my heels, walk right back through and slam it shut behind me. If I change my mind again, I’ll hold my head high and stroll through that door once more. This belief in everlasting opportunity is what has allowed me to confidently roam, explore, and feel free to make bold choices.
Despite living this way in so many aspects of my life, I know there’s one area that has been a casualty of the fear of lost opportunity. In matters of the heart, I’ve often retreated into myself to avoid making a choice that might limit future possibilities. I would rather avoid any emotional attachment for fear that it might be limiting, dangerous, or distracting.
I tend to see the world through the lens of utility, especially with relationships. If someone pulled focus from my goals, then I would not make time for them. If we felt more like work than pleasure, it was deemed too draining. If there was a chance our paths might diverge, then I saw no point in traveling together at all, even if we might be going the same way for a little while.
As I get older, I’m realizing that age poses a door of opportunity that will definitely close to me forever if I don’t take advantage of it soon. The door won’t lock due to the choices I’m making, but because I’m not actively making the choice to open it. Unlike all the others I’ve encountered, I don’t think I can’t turn and run once I’ve decided to walk through. And in all honesty, I’ve been roaming these corridors for years and I’ve never even glimpsed this door, likely due to my complete avoidance of the relationship halls.
I still don’t have a stable home and I still don’t know where I’ll be in six months, but I think I’m going to start opening more doors that lead outside of my comfort zone. I’m going to let people in even if the path ahead is hazy. Since I don’t know where I’m going, any direction could get me where I want to be. I still believe I can change my mind and try again. I still believe I have plenty of options and opportunities, even if I need to start strategically prioritizing if I want to take advantage of all of them. I’m going to see if I can find that elusive door while still wandering boldly and making mistakes along the way. I’ll let you know how it goes.
Till next time,
Clarissa Pinkola Estés’ Women Who Run With the Wolves
Emily St. John Mandel’s Sea of Tranquility
Julia Cameron’s Living the Artist's Way
Rob Auton’s In Heaven the Onions Make You Laugh
