"I’m not dark and twisty. And if I am, it’s because I live my life under a banner of avoidance. I avoid. I’m an avoider."
– Meredith, Grey’s Anatomy
My friend recently commented that if my life were a television show, they’d have to talk very fast about all sorts of deep, complicated, intense things like they do on Alias. The viewing public would have to concentrate very intently to get all of the nuances of the intricate plot, the subtle references that foreshadow future scenes similar to the connectedness of Lost, only with more making out and less Dharma Initiative foodstuffs. I suggested Gilmore Girls, but he disagreed, saying it was too light and not nearly as convoluted as the reality of my life was. Point taken (though I really like Lauren Graham and Alexis Bledel. And Matt Czuchry, aka, Logan. He’s hot.) But I digress…
My friend was right…as I’ve alluded to here lately, there’s been a LOT going on with me, and each day the story changes. On a Friday I’m moving across the country; on Monday, I’m staying put. Tuesday, I’m flying back twice a month; Wednesday, I’m starting up a new department. Thursday follows suit, so it’s no wonder that TNDC usually ends up with fabulous DebauchAubrey stories and Friday, an early trip to Bob’s Donuts while I spend the day dodging IM rumors about who I’m dating and who I’m NOTDating™, the courting ritual of us hipsters so confusing that someone really needs to write a book called "How to Date the person you are NOTDating™ – The Rules and Regulations for all Official UnRelationships™" just so we can keep it all straight.
Keeping it all straight is the least of my worries; keeping myself sane seems to be a much higher priority as of late.
I’ve always been one to deal well with stress, though I don’t think I’ve ever experienced this eight-pronged attack so consecutively such that my armchair therapist friend sat, perplexed, and asked me how I get out of bed each morning. A question I ask myself nearly every day. While many are waiting for the other shoe to drop, I know that the entire sale rack of Nordstrom’s Women’s shoe department has already fallen and Neiman’s is next. And not if, my friends, but when.
In light of this, I’ve come to realize that behind this normally chipper, bright and cheery "devil may care" attitude there lies someone who actually DOES care, who IS affected, who is trying her best to get through things one by one and just come out on the top. Because, after all, there really isn’t another option, or perhaps I refuse to accept defeat on any of these fronts. Together, they may seem daunting (and even on their own, a bit scary), but one way or another, anything else is unacceptable. Similar to a person who believes in God only because the alternative is too frightening, I can’t fathom the situations not improving because the opposite seems incomprehensible.
Apparently, I’m "dark and twisty."
And, like Meredith, I think it’s a result of many, many years of sweeping things under the rug, avoiding the real issues and dealing with the superficial ones, and the culmination of weeks and months and years of this is that at some point, you WILL have to deal with it. You can only live "under the banner of avoidance" for so long, which is unfortunate since I *KNOW* that banner, I *LOVE* that banner, that banner and I have "Best Friend" necklaces so that my side is "Be | Fri" and the banner completes me with "st | ends". That banner and I, we’re BFF 4-ever, yo.
There’s an upside of being dark and twisty, according to my friend, the same friend who likened my life to an intense weekly drama on ABC; he postulated that guys are inevitably drawn to dark and twisty gals, that their damaged state makes them somehow attractive. "It’s like moths to a flame, Aubrey, moths to a flame." Well, given recent events, I found myself agreeing with him, though the concept of my fucked-upness producing some mysterious, intoxicating pheromone sending men straight into my (damaged) arms is more than a bit disturbing.
"But I’m not talking about you," he continued. "For you, the more fucked up you are, the more confident you get. You don’t give this off…you seem even more put together. And we know that’s not the case – I mean, you’re REALLLLLYYY fucked up."
What the hell? If I have to be dark and twisty, if I have to abandon my banner friend, if I have to actually DEAL with these things, why can’t I get some added benefit out of it? If I have to be a flame, why the hell don’t I get to be swarmed by the moths?
Who knew I’d ever come to the day when I was depressed that I wasn’t getting hit in the face by flying insects? Say it with me, friends: I’ve reached new lows.