Back to a few weeks ago: the panic lit by the Fire Prevention Play just wouldn't go out. After I confessed my attraction to Summer Princess, I couldn't convince myself I wasn't a threat to her, that I wasn't somehow coercing her to be near me whenever she was near me.
Prickly and sometimes-moody as she was, she did NOTHING but try and stay friends! While I was coloring/providing a sensory area on our field trip to Dave & Busters, she played an old version of Animal Crossing and sat quietly with me. Back at camp, she made August Valentines with me and the kids. Summer Princess and I took turns picking out dreamy/moody songs amongst the cutting and pasting. She was being a pretty wonderful friend, and I couldn't access the friendly, sunny part of myself.
I knew it was wrong for me to be there with her in such a panicky/heartbroken state, so I ended up leaving camp a week early. I still love her so much (now in a peaceful, non-urgent way) and I'm so grateful for our friendship, however flawed and brief. If by some miracle you're reading this, Summer Princess, thank you. I'm honored to have spent a few weeks basking in the glow of you. I wish you a super-sparkly life and every wish come true.
The Monday after I said goodbye to camp, I went on a roadtrip I'd been planning all the hot, traumaful summer: A trip to my high school hometown, sort of an Exposure Therapy final project. I wanted to face the apartment complex where my Main Trauma happen and the house where my dad made the MT worse by providing my number one intrusive thought: "You brought this into our house."
I spent a two-day trip staying in the most lovely Airbnb, nurturing my inner teenage self and listening to lots of podcast recaps of Fire Walk With Me. In front of the (still very ugly) house, there was a beautiful yellow rosebush. It must've been an heirloom rose, the smell was exquisite.
Laura Palmer was there in my head, a shaman and a doula, helping me lead myself down the path to a new life of innocence and hope.
Maybe I'll write more about that adventure one day, but for now, I just wanted to tell you: I'm happy. My coworkers surprised me with an early birthday cake before the long weekend. This week I'll be both seeing my favorite band AND watching Fire Walk With Me on a big screen! I even like somebody who kinda makes sense for me.
I want to freeze all these happinesses in carbonite, make them permanent, unassailable, unquestionable. I want edges defined and boundaries drawn and a notarized certificate that says I'm not doing anything wrong.
But it feels okay to sit in the present, eat leftover early birthday cake, and hope.