Moving Forward

Heather grew up in a world infused with shame and silence. A world governed by fear. She grew up in this small town, which implied that she has some working knowledge of the town and its social attractions. From a childhood spent in the playground, progressing to years spent in the mall and the cinema, to becoming an idealistic teenager with starry eyes seeking big adventures. Yes, she should know this town, but she did not. 

Heather grew up with her mother, Ann, who was difficult to predict. Most days Ann’s sadness was manageable, but some days it was not. Regardless, they did everything together and on the days that Ann could not do anything Heather did it for her. In those years, that was all that was necessary. These days, not so much.

These days, fear still influences Heather’s world, but it is anger that constantly boils beneath the surface. Anger, guilt, shame, fear, and mistrust. A concoction brought about by the death of Ann, which left Heather alone. Heather had to learn survive in a world she had not been prepared to live in and to do so; she had to adapt certain truths. Truths her mother said were better off unacknowledged.

Nonetheless, change is inevitable, often unwanted and without a doubt, uncaring. Heather had to face certain truths. This is something she was working on, in a manner of speaking. One day, she told herself, she would not feel this anger, fear, or guilt. Yet, for now, she feet it. It is always present. For now, it is a part of her. She tried denying its existence. However, it is a very much, big part of her. But, she is working on it, most days.

Like today. Today, she was going to try to open up to others, but not too much. It should not be difficult as these were the relatives of her mother. Relatives she did not know existed until Ann’s death. So technically, she is not alone; she just feels a great sense of loneliness and emptiness. A feeling she felt would worsen despite the planned family gathering; which would serve as an introduction to her extended family. It is difficult for her to imagine this not being a disaster. It is difficult for her to imagine stepping into a room filled with people and fitting in. It is difficult for her to imagine that she can carry on a conversation about things that mean very little to her but that she has vague ideas about. It is difficult to imagine trusting someone new in a way that she has only ever trusted her mother. Will they dismiss her as too strange? Will she run for cover under the shame ingrained in her? Will she been left standing in a corner, wanting to kick herself for coming? Will she, in her eagerness to belong, frighten them away?

Why did I bother to do this? Why am I doing this to myself? I should take Sheldon with me! He would keep me clam. She berated herself continuously as she looked over at the glass case containing the little turtle her mother had gotten her. Her throat burned with a heaviness she desperately tried to ignore. She refused to cry. Yet, that did not stop her from wanting to.

Heather was in her bedroom, sitting at the foot of her bed. Her hands resting on her knees. She was in a dress she purchased some time ago because she thought it was pretty and that it might look good on her one day. She was wearing makeup she put a lot of effort into in hopes that it would help her blend in. She had her hair done in the same way she saw the pretty people on the internet wear theirs. On her feet, she wore shoes that did not feel comfortable but looked pretty.

Yet she did not feel the way she wanted to feel nor did she see herself the way she wanted people to see her. Heather wanted to be acceptable and capable. She wanted to be normal. She locked eyes with herself in the mirror. What she was, She thought to herself, was alone and guilty. There was a look of defeat on her face. She was familiar with it. Her mother would not approve, had she been here, Heather thought. No one who would understand this. No one will understand it. She was beyond comprehension.

What does it matter? Why do I even bother? She asks herself.

Then she cried. Her hands muffling her mouth, even though she cried silently. It was a habit she developed a long time ago, even before her mother had passed.

One tear, two tears, and three tears ran down her cheeks, taking her make up with it. Her eyes were red. Her mind was racing. Her heart hammered in her chest. She felt unfixable. She met her own eyes again in the mirror.

She did not like what she saw before, but she liked what she saw now, even less.

This is not who I wanted to be. Heather thought to herself, once, twice, thrice. Each time, a new sense determination was present.

She closed her eyes. She breathed in. She breathed out. Once, twice, a thrice.

She opened my eyes. This is not who I am. She thought to herself.

This matters, because I matter, what I want matters. And I want to experience more. She felt her shoulders slackened, and something firmer took hold in her belly. She did not give herself the chance to back out. She quickly repaired her make-up and left to attend the gathering. All the time, repeating to herself, I can do this. I can do this.

* * *

Almost 2 hours later, Heather sat outside in her car.  Her relatives were still making their way to their cars.

She was feeling so much better than she had before. It was not a perfect experience, and at times, she felt like running away, but she did not. A victory on its own.

My awkwardness in public will disappear given time, and that is what I need to give myself. She thought to herself. Time and perhaps some gentle patience. She added.  

She laughed quietly as she recalled the madness that fear had brought over her. She felt light, and strangely bright, as though she glowed with the small victory over self-doubt. She quickly ducked her head as an uncle or someone walked pass her car. She could not quite recalled his name but did not want to ruin the victory by having a relative spot her laughing with herself. She enthusiastically returned his wave.

She started the car and began backing out of the parking spot.

Once she was on her way home, she returned to her earlier thoughts.

Fear will come back one day to show its ugly head. She soberly thought to herself. This is not the end for me, she added with sigh. One-day fear will visit again and rear its ugly head. Until then, I am working on it she said to herself. One day at a time.

For now, she simply wanted to enjoy the feeling of connection imprinted on her by her new family  members.