Epiphany 987

So I kind of have figured out why I have been so lost and out of sorts the last few months.

It’s a growth spurt.

When I left my ex, I went all the way out. Trying to be exactly what he told me I couldn’t be, rebelling against everything he wanted, everything he put on me, everything I hated about our relationship. I totally went a far way out to change my life to be different from what it was with him. I didn’t think, I just went.

And there were so many distractions on the way – short films, the feature, several plays, four moves, new people in my life, quick trips with my dearest friends, dealing with my father’s health, dealing with finances. I never took to the time to really stop and think through what these changes all meant and what shape they were taking inside of me, who Susan was really becoming. I’m an artist, I proudly proclaimed. I’m free. I’m becoming fearless (wow, weird, I typed “fearful” instead of fearless initially). I’m loving my life and my friends and doing all that I ever wanted to do. I am who I am, and tough shit if you don’t like it.

I thought I looked deep inside in those dark moments. I thought I delved deep into my psyche and found the deep, hidden answers I had been seeking. I thought I had made such huge progress because everyone around me said I did.

Well, you know what? I was doing exactly what I did with my ex. I was trying to become the person everyone around me was seeing. Susan, you’re so strong, you’re so brave, you’re so… fill in the blank. And, yes, I am those things. But they don’t really define who I am. And that’s what I never really looked at too deeply. I looked at what I wanted and what I didn’t want.

But this new me has to be a true real new me. I have to really examine the mistakes I’ve made and own them. I have to really see the issues in my life that keep reoccurring. My sister doesn’t really do that with her life and she keeps tripping up on the same things over and over again (I know I’ll get an earful about this, I’m sure) but while we can all pursue the life we want, until we can truly see where we went wrong, where our choices put us in peril, where we mistepped, I don’t think we can truly become what we want.

I was thinking about this the past few days as I once again migrate my belongings and my Twyla to yet another new apartment. There was so much baggage going along with this move. And I focused my attention outwardly, on the things around me that frustrate me – guess what the big one is? – and tried to deflect what was really bothering me deep down inside, particularly about this move.

I’m 44 years old. In less than six months, I’ll be 45. I’m starting back at square one in a way I have never done before. I was 25 when my first marriage ended, not yet a fully defined human being. I came to Los Angeles, seeking to find who Susan was. And I found parts of her here, parts of her with my ex, parts of her at Universal Studios and with Susan Strasberg and all over the place. But at that age, I never learned to take all those pieces of me and build the person I am. My ex was a huge obstacle in putting those pieces together but I allowed a certain amount of that.

Anyway, I realized that moving in with my parents, for all its altruistic outwardly appearances, is really getting to me for several reasons. First, I think it puts in all of our minds how delicate the next year could be. My father is regaining much of his strength, once again befuddling his doctors. He may live another five years, ten years, who knows? But this move, his allowing me to become a part of his day-to-day life, means he’s accepted that he needs help and he’s never admitted that before. I think that paints the picture for all of us – his time may be very short. This move makes that concrete, whether anybody is willing to say it or not. I will spend the last days of his life with him. I can only hope that they multiply exponentially and that I move out eventually because they don’t need me anymore. But the reality is not that.

Second, I feel like I am somehow giving up on things with this move. It is not where I would choose to be. I feel like it’s going backwards, living with my parents. I will be once again in the “child” role in such a visceral and constant basis. It’s feeing into all of my insecurities and I am worried that I will somehow lose everything that I have fought so hard for these past 16 months. That is something I’ll have to look at closer. Why would I lose ground with this move? How can I tackle this and find the issues and face them head on instead of just accepting what my parents perceive me to be? As wonderful and amazing as they are, they do see me in a particular way and it influences how they treat me. I have to guard against becoming what they perceive.

Third, I don’t think I have begun to really see and define who I am truly. I have the adjectives, I have the palette, but I don’t own those yet. I feel like a fraud because I’ve just taken what you all have handed to me as to who I am. I am who you see. And that’s different to each one of you. And I will take the very gracious and amazing traits you have all infused me with – bravery, courage, strength, power, beauty, grace, dignity. I will try to live up to those traits, as they are what I desire to be. But up until now, I have been playing at them. I’m supposed to be “brave” because I left my abusive husband and followed my heart. But to me, I was brave on one day then spent the next 480 days trying to figure out what the hell I did and why I did it. I realize that, when I look inside, there is nothing solid there yet. I see the bits and pieces of things, of who I want to be and what I want my life to look like. Yet, I can’t see me yet. I can tell you what I want, how I want to be, where I want to go, all of that.

Sidebar – Holy cow, such hugely strong déjà vu just now. I’ve written this before. Lindsay says that’s crossing your destiny line. But the sense I have of this déjà vu, as so many of them, there is a slight difference from what I sensed the first time. If it is true to exactly what the original sense was, the man I am in love with will call/show up/somehow be present as I type this. But we all, those things never happen.

Anyway, what I guess it comes down to is this. I need to disconnect from others’ expectations of me. I need to find out exactly who this person is, laying here in her Nick and Nora pajamas, trying to see inside of herself. It’s like going through adolescence all over again. The awkward stage of looking in the mirror and seeing on the braces and the glasses and the clothes that aren’t quite right, going to where all the cool people are and feeling like they’re all laughing at you behind your back, standing on the edge of the hipper, prettier, more popular girls and not quite living up to their image, wanting, needing, so desperately desiring to belong and yet not quite knowing how to do that, seeing the boy you want to ask you to the dance and you know that he wants to but he doesn’t and he ends up with someone else and you’re heartbroken because you just know it’s because of the braces and the glasses and the imperfect clothes and the laughing and not living up to expectations.

Maybe by the time I’m 50, I’ll have grown out of the awkward mid-life adolescence I am struggling through now and find the beauty and the grace of someone who has maybe not figured it all out yet but who has found peace with not figuring it out and knowing that it’s okay to continue to ask, continue to seek, continue to find, because she knows deep inside who she is and what she wants, without compromise. I look forward to that day.

Until then, I beg your tolerance and understanding when I throw temper tantrums and I rant endlessly about boys and I break out in metaphorical zits and I am just plain unruly. I promise it won’t go on forever and I hope you all will still be there when I grow up.