Mary Fox Park
I am back in Albuquerque and it is hot. Good thing I know of a nice, shady arbor to hang out in while I wait for Calvin the Mechanic to be available to do a final check on LaVanne before we head out. Plans to visit Taos before leaving the Land of Enchantment were scotched by my week+ of the flu, laying about whining that I couldn’t breathe. What a wimp.
No more time for sight-seeing. I need to get to California and my summer camp-hosting job. Taos will have to wait until next year. Then I will do it justice.
This heat is going to put me to sleep, right here on this park bench. Ahh, thank you, Slight Breeze. That is, um, slightly better.
So, I’ve been mulling over a way to describe what’s been going on in this old head lately.
I knew that this life of travel and ‘adventure,’ if you can call it that, would bring me face to face with myself. I just didn’t know what, exactly, that would mean. Turns out, I have been brought smack-dab into the middle of my own shit.
Have I mentioned that I am just a tad OCD about being observed? Even more so about being judged? One of my sons used to complain frequently, “Mom, we live like moles!” He didn’t think it was necessary to the curtains closed at night. “I don’t like people looking in at me,” was my perfectly reasonable response.
Well, now, living in LaVanne (and outside a good portion of the time) my Spidey Sense is tingling wildly — except when it’s pitch dark and I KNOW no one can see me.
Funny: a woman who has been talking to herself on a nearby park bench came over, ostensibly to dispose of something in the trash can next to me, and announced, “I do not talk to strangers.” Apparently, she found my insincere smile threatening. But she made a point to come over and tell me that she doesn’t talk to strangers. So she does, in fact, talk to strangers.
I said, “Okay,” with relief and she left.
See? I make a big show of being friendly but it’s all a sham. Not that I’m UNfriendly, but like that woman, I’d prefer not to talk to strangers. Too bad she’ll never know how much we have in common.
Back to the issue at hand: I feel exposed. I am constantly checking sightlines when I’m at home in LaVanne. Can anyone see me in here? Is it private enough to, say, pee in the bucket? Or remove this cursed bra? What about when I need to empty the bucket in a nearby public restroom? Will anyone guess I am carrying a pitcher of piss in my grocery bag? What if I trip and spill it in public?
More generically, what are people thinking about me as I walk by? Look at that fat ass? What an unattractive hat? How dare she show her face in this affluent neighborhood? She doesn’t belong here?
She doesn’t belong here.
That is the voice I hear every time I find myself in a place where I aspire to belong. It was like that in Santa Fe this past week, big time.
As I sat eating my bagel at the organic coop the other day, listening to the screeching voices in my head, I heard other voices too: “That woman is so incredibly beautiful. Why is life so unfair?” “Wow, how does he gather all his dreads together like that?” “Oh dear, she would be so much more attractive if she’d just lose some weight.”
Soon, I could hear nothing but judgment of all the innocent people crossing my gaze. “FAT!” “OLD!” “UGLY!”
And I realized with a start that *I* am the one passing judgment — me, who takes pride in being so, well, accepting. And the next thought was that the one I’m really passing judgment on is, of course, myself.
I thought that this adventure would somehow sorta heal me of my self-loathing, without my having to actually deal with it. Um, apparently not.
Stay tuned.
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I think it’s a universal truth. All that stuff we all have going through our heads, all those judgments we make. You nailed it. Those judgments reveal what we think and feel mostly about ourselves.
Great post LaVonne.
Agreed, Yolanda. We all do it to some degree. I think vandwelling has just turned up the volume for me so loud that I finally heard myself.
Where do I begin, LaVonne. There’s some of you in all of us. Thanks again for sharing yourself and thoughts in honest words where we can enjoy them here.
Yes, that’s the great thing about writing and sharing those innermost thoughts, Kat. You find out you’re pretty normal after all, lol.
Oh I can so identify with a lot of what you say here. I’m moving shortly from a house to an apartment and the big difference for me is that in the apartment there will be no garden. So I will no longer have to put myself through the torture of gardening out in the open, where anyone might see me. (The result of all of that is of course that I very rarely have put myself through the torture, so my garden is completely overgrown!)
So for me it’s more about being observed rather than judged, but I’m still hyper-conscious that I’m having to put on a totally phoney show just in order to function outside my locked doors and closed windows. By the way, the thought of not pulling the curtains… shudder!!
OMG, the gardening thing! I have had two ‘gardens’ in my life, both sadly neglected because I was too self-conscious to go out there and garden. Yes, it’s all about being observed. Back in my radio days, I spent lots of time, effort, and money getting myself “TV ready” only to realize that the thought of being scrutinized on camera for a living made me want to puke. Radio was the perfect way to get my fame-whore on without being seen, lol.
Hey! Just saw this…
http://waynewirs.com/2014/the-creepy-guy-in-the-van/?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=feed&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+TheBlogOfWayneWirs+%28Wayne+%28Wirs%29%3A+Down-To-Earth+Enlightenment%29#
Oooh, thanks Yolanda! I love Wayne Wirs. Funny thing: when I was in Ehrenberg with Bob and the others, there was this fascinating guy who came to the evening campfires for a while. I didn’t find out until he left that he was Wayne Wirs!
Oh did you strike a nerve in me! All I can say is you go girlfriend – you are blazing a trail of self vomitus (please note that is meant as a badge of pride) that can only be good for all the rest that follow behind .
So looking forward to your adventures and your challenges (hateful aren’t they?)
One is occasionally allowed to give up. And not just occasionally. It’s strange how society is all set up for the extrovert, hyperactive person, while those of us who need breaks from mankind, who need silences, who don’t necessarily have our most productive period at 7 in the morning, are ridiculed at every turn. I’ve spent my entire life trying to turn myself into what I am not and most people would never guess that this bubbly, outgoing personality is not natural. At the end of each day of teaching, all I want is to be alone. Perhaps just with the company of my dogs.
No, don’t fight it. Go with who you really are. I hope your books turn really successful so you never have to do heavy physical labour again!