in media res

in media res

I never believed anyone would want to read my story, as it’s difficult to lie to the mirror within yourself; to settle and strap down the peripatetic heart inside of you–living just to burst free and explore its beats. It’s even harder to shape the hairs that run along your supercilious spine, almost ceremoniously holding you together, every one locked in place; it bends and bows barometrically with enough force to give the illusion of choice, direction.

We are but visitors with a stranded path and plotted genetics, which most times make our journey not difficult but…interesting. “Interesting” as my father says fondly over Sunday cups of steaming coffee. He can find the slightest ground of intrigue in the mundane. I share the lust for irreplaceable replaceable knowledge. My mother, of a different sort, not much in noticing the luxe of nothingness in everything. Although she may at times mutter, “I love learning about stuff like that!” her love of useless knowledge ends as most do–Snapple Facts and the passing trivia. She is business with a child’s heart–that I get from her.

I am a dreamer. Most of the time I can be found lost in my reverie, shifting feet from left to right, or searching for a pen. I was just recently reacquainted with several of my monogrammed moleskin journals, so I will no longer have to jot down lengthy ‘trivials’ in the note section of my iPhone (as easy as it is, there’s something about putting pen to paper!)

I wasn’t sure to begin…the very beginning? Back in time to my earliest memories? Some of which, quite fondly, contain delicate moments between my grandpa and I. Should I begin in middle school (bleh!) where I first realized and experienced the truth that my skin color made me different as I traveled through this world? High School? Where the students really had me realize that my ethnicity chose multitudinous outcomes in my high school culture regardless of my awareness or not. Honestly, I never had dates or escorts to the Prom, or any formal event for that matter except one (and if he’s reading this, he knows who he is!) To this day, I know that my slow…uhhh…nonexistent dating life in high school gave me a slow start in dating overall which has unfortunately carried into adulthood. In my young adult years, I dated a LOT, but I never thought twice about having a family too young, too early, I always believed there would be time. Yet, as the years continue to tick by, endometriosis has become, “The Hand that Rocks the Cradle” and I begin to weigh relationships as forgotten opportunities–retrospect. I was engaged once, too, but that’s a nightmare, story, for a different time.

So, I begin here: in media res (‘in the middle of things’) which at this point is the only way I know how. As I have been experiencing some level, some type, some distinction of chronic pain since the age of 11, I have always been in action and continually moving to the next moment. I am hoping that my brief snapshot has been able to give you access to not only my vulnerability, but also entry into your own. It has been a long 7 years away, but it feels fantastic to be back with everyone! Please remember that we are all here together, and no matter what you may have gone through or are going through right now–you are enough.

ME!